


Usurping the Throne Is Easy; Keeping it Is the Hard Part

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: But two brothers are known to be banging offscreen, Distrust, How to keep a stolen throne, Incest, Intrigue, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, No onscreen incest, Politics, Scheming, Sex, Sex as politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15397422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: Stephan Fyrhawk, first of his name, is king of the southern nation of Kyaine.He never wanted to be, especially not with this much bloodshed. But it was for the greater good.Nobody told him that being king is infinitely harder than becoming king. When you're king, everyone wants something, and most of them are willing to do anything to get it.And when your reign was inaugurated with bloodshed, violence is always an option that's on the table.





	1. Usurping the Throne Is Easy; Keeping it Is the Hard Part

**Author's Note:**

> This story is sort of a direct sequel to [The Queen's Companion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732035/chapters/31549617), which just recently finished. You don't need to have read that story to understand the plot of this one, but there will be some things that happened in that story that won't be fully recapped because they were described in detail then, just as a warning. 
> 
> Enjoy the saga of King Stephan!

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. 

It wasn’t supposed to have ended in violence and bloodshed. A bloodless revolution, that was what they’d all promised him. No fighting. The city guard, the castle guard, the army, all on his side. Everyone wanted Francesca DiGorre and her family out of Hawk’s Roost. All he had to do was lead them and nothing could go wrong. 

But everything had gone wrong. Francesca had refused to abdicate. Dahlia had escaped, and Cordelia DeThane had gotten away with Donovan too. And with Franz up north, that meant that three of the DiGorre children were out there, waiting. 

And Stephan had murdered their parents. 

He hadn’t wanted to kill Francesca or Dante DiGorre. He really hadn’t borne either of them any ill will. She was just doing a shit job as queen and needed to retire, that was all. He hadn’t wanted to kill Felix either, but Felix had tried to kill him—not able to see that Stephan had been trying to keep everything peaceful, Felix had attacked him, and started all the fighting, and that had led to Neville…

Everything was Felix’s fault, but he was dead now, so there was nobody for Stephan to blame but himself. This had happened because he hadn’t been careful enough, because he’d underestimated his foes. He should have known better. Stephan was smart, everyone said so. He should have thought more carefully about how to approach that situation and done something to defuse it. 

If he hadn’t, then Neville wouldn’t have had to kill everyone.

Stephan’s companion had moved so quickly, and so mercilessly. He’d killed Felix and Francesca and Dante all in quick succession, before Stephan could even tell him to stop. Stephan always forgot how good he was with that knife. It would be terrifying if they weren’t companions, if they weren’t so close. 

Neville would never hurt Stephan, but he would hurt people who were a threat to Stephan, and Stephan appreciated that. He appreciated having someone who he knew was always loyal to him. He appreciated having someone who he knew cared about him. 

And that was why he didn’t want Neville to go. Without Neville, he didn’t know who to trust. 

Which was why Stephan had his legs wrapped around Neville, and his arms too as Neville thrust in and out of him. They were having good-bye sex, so Stephan was letting Neville top as much as he wanted. Riding a horse after taking it up the ass would just hurt.

Neville groaned as he came inside Stephan another time, kissing him after he was done. He stroked Stephan the short distance to his own orgasm, then the two of them lay there for a moment, resting. Neville was getting soft inside Stephan. They just breathed together for a second, before Neville tried to pull out. 

Stephan kept his legs and arms in place, not letting Stephan move. “Stay,” he said, ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the stab wound he’d taken. They hadn’t found a wizard yet to heal him. 

Neville chuckled, kissing Stephan again. “I’m sorry, my king,” he teased. “But I can’t keep it up anymore. If you still need servicing, you’ll have to bring in a replacement for me.” 

Stephan could probably take another load or two, but… “That’s not what I mean,” he told Neville. “I mean stay here, in Hawk’s Roost.”

Neville smiled, pulled away, breaking easily out of Stephan’s grip as he sat up. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can,” Stephan protested, laying his arms out wide. “We’ve got everything we need here. We’ve got this bed.” The queen’s bed. Stephan’s bed. “We’ve got the castle, the country. We can do whatever we want here.”

“Not as long as Francesca’s heir is sitting pretty north of the border,” Neville reminded him, stroking Stephan’s leg. “Somebody has to go and exchange him for your idiot cousin.”

Stephan sighed. He knew that. He’d sent a letter to the northern king explaining the situation and telling him how he’d uphold the trade agreement as long as Franz was sent back. He’d even offered his cousin Horace, who was definitely an idiot but was at least pretty, as an exchange. It had been Ulrich Elderbyne’s idea, and it was a good idea so Stephan had agreed to it. “But does it have to be _you_?” Stephan asked, trying not to whinge. He was a grown man and the king of Kyaine, he wasn’t going to whinge like a baby. 

“No,” Neville said, standing up. “It doesn’t. I can stay if you really want me to. But this is important. If Franz tries to pull something, or the northerners, or…”

“I know,” Stephan sighed, sitting. He watched Neville go over to the basin of water, use a wet towel to clean off the sweat and cum from his body. He was muscular but lithe, looking always like he was about to jump on someone. His skin was a little lighter than Stephan’s, courtesy of his islander mother, who’d also given him rounder facial features than most Kyainese people had. He was gorgeous. “I just…need you here.”

Neville smiled at him. “I know. But you need me more up there. And I’ll be back soon.”

“I know, I know. I’m just going to miss you.” Stephan and Neville had never been separated for more than a day, not since they’d been children. 

“I’m going to miss you too,” Neville said, coming back over with the wet towel. “Come on, we need to get you cleaned up and dressed. Unless you’re not going to come see me off?”

“Of course I am,” Stephan said, letting Neville clean the mess of his front, and off his backside and thighs. All Neville’s cum was leaking out. 

“Hm,” Neville said, looking down at Stephan. He reached over to the bedside table, opened a drawer. And he came back with a polished wooden knob, flat at the base and narrowing from there. “Can’t have the king leaking cum down the back of his pants,” he said, and he oiled it up, sliding it inside Stephan with just a tiny bit of difficulty. 

Stephan shifted on the sheets, getting used to the toy inside him. It was one they used a lot, so it wasn’t a new sensation, and it kept the remnants of Neville’s cum from leaking out. Stephan smiled, glad that at least part of Neville wasn’t leaving yet. 

“Come on, clothes,” Neville said, pulling him up. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, my king,” Stephan teased, and Neville gave him a slap on the ass for it, getting them both laughing. 

“I was serious, too,” Neville said, as he tied Stephan’s loincloth for him. “About finding someone to give you orgasms.”

Stephan looked away. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You should,” Neville said, serious. “You can’t be all pent up and trying to rule a kingdom. You have needs and I’m not going to be here to help you with them.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Stephan protested. “I’m not going to just find some random guy to fuck.”

“Yes,” Neville said. “You are. You can’t have sex with Flora for several years, and another girl is risky. So you need a boy.” 

Stephan huffed. He was set to marry Flora DiGorre. Marrying her would solidify his reign by tying his family permanently to the DiGorres for anyone who was still nervous about that family losing power, and would show that he meant no ill will to his predecessor’s family. But Flora was only eight years old, so Stephan wasn’t going to be marrying her any time soon. “It’s not like there are a bunch of those just around asking to sleep with me,” Stephan muttered.

Neville snorted. “You’re the king, dummy. People would pay to get in your bed. I don’t care if it’s a stableboy or one of your cousins or the guy who changes your bedsheets, you need to get some release from someone, because you get pent up and horny, and then you’re easily distracted, and a king can’t be distracted.”

Stephan gave Neville a weird look. “So it’s for the good of Kyaine that I get laid while you’re gone?”

“Basically,” Neville laughed, moving onto to Stephan’s shirt. “Don’t worry, we’ll fuck in every room in this castle when I get back. But until then…” Neville thought about it. “Ask Geoffery DiSheere. He’d probably give you a blowjob if you asked.”

“We killed his father last week,” Stephan reminded Neville. “He hates me.” Gerhard DiSheere had decided to side with the DiGorres for some unfathomable reason. And he’d paid for it. 

“His father was a rebel, and he’s looking to make sure you know he’s not. He’s not anyone of consequence so it doesn’t really matter.” Neville shrugged. “Ask him. He’ll say yes.” 

“And if he doesn’t?”

Another shrug. “He will. He has his house’s reputation and a little brother to look out for. But if he doesn’t, then ask someone else.” 

Stephan sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he said, clenching around the toy inside him. 

“Okay.” Neville kissed his cheek, and they finished dressing in silence. 

When they were done, they went out into the hallway, and a guard broke away from the door and followed them, because they weren’t sure yet that everyone was as loyal as they said. A lot of the old castle guards and such had changed sides in the uprising, and it was hard to say if they meant it.

Stephan tried to walk regally, which was slightly harder than usual because of the toy, and project confidence and dignity like Neville had told him he had to. Servants bowed and guards saluted and everyone got out of their way as they walked. 

It was all a lot to get used to. 

When they got to the main doors, they stepped outside into the courtyard, where there were several mounted soldiers arrayed around Stephan’s cousin Horace, who looked impatient. He dismounted, then came over to them. “It’s about time, my king,” he said, smiling knowingly. “Having a long goodbye, were we?” 

Stephan just nodded, because why lie? “It’s something good about being king, cousin. Everyone waits for you.”

“That we do, Stephan.” Horace smiled. “Well, we’re all ready when you are.” His companion was over there too, just watching them. Stephan knew his name but couldn’t remember it at the moment. 

“Just give me a minute with Neville,” he said to Horace. “But I want you to know that I appreciate you doing this for the family.” 

Horace shrugged. “Marry a princess? It’s not like it’s a burden, Steph. Try not to get killed down here, okay?”

“I’ll try, Horace.” Stephan smiled at him, then turned to Neville. Dutifully, Horace turned away, heading back for his horse. “You be careful too. You don’t know what they’ll try up there.”

“I will,” Neville promised, taking Stephan’s hand and kissing it. “And you be careful down here. Try not to trust anyone too much, okay?” 

“I know,” Stephan said. He knew that. He knew he couldn’t trust anyone. “I’ll be okay until you get back.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

“Promise,” Neville said, and they kissed briefly, squeezing hands, before Neville pulled away. “I’ll be back before you know it, my king.” 

“I know you will be,” Stephan said, nodding regally. “You’ve never disappointed me before, right?”

“And now would be a bad time to start. Bye. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Stephan said, a tear collecting in one eye as Neville left, went to go mount his horse. For security reasons, it wasn’t a good idea for Stephan to leave the castle grounds for now—there might still be some holdouts in the city who resented his taking over—so he couldn’t ride with them even to the city gates. 

So Stephan just watched them go, waving as they passed through the gates of the castle. Neville looked over his shoulder and waved back, and then they were gone, the castle gates shut behind them. 

Leaving Stephan Fyrhawk, king of Kyaine, all by himself in Hawk’s Roost.


	2. Kings Aren’t Quite as Powerful as They Might Seem from A Distance

“I hate you.” 

“I understand,” Stephan said, nodding patiently. “But that’s just because you don’t understand.” 

Flora DiGorre sat as far from him as she could, knees pulled up in front of her, arms wrapped around them. “I understand that you killed my parents and my brother. You’re evil.” 

Stephan wasn’t evil, and he hadn’t killed any of them. But that was a pointless distinction. He’d been responsible, even if he hadn’t held the knife. Even if he hadn’t wanted it to happen. He looked at the floor, sighing. “They were trying to kill me. Your brother tried to assassinate me. Neville was just protecting me.” 

“Well he shouldn’t have,” Flora told him. She was a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair. “He should have killed you instead. I wish you were dead.” Her face was streaked with tears. 

“I know,” Stephan said, reminding himself that there was no point in getting annoyed at a little girl who was grieving the loss of her parents. “But I’m not. And you’re going to have to spend a lot of time with me, so you need to stop hating me someday.”

“No. I’m never going to stop hating you. I’m going to kill you.” 

Stephan smiled at her. “No, you’re not. And even if you could, it would be a bad idea. You’re only still alive because of me. If you kill me, then they’ll kill you too.” 

Flora looked up at him, and Stephan didn’t think he’d ever seen a child capable of that much hatred. “Good. I’d rather die than marry you.” 

She meant that. She was eight years old and she meant that. How could an eight-year-old girl say and mean that? Was it because she’d been raised royal? Was it because she knew she was better than Stephan by virtue of blood? 

Stephan didn’t know, but he was unnerved, so he stood up, swallowing. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can bring you? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here.” She wasn’t a prisoner. Yes, they were keeping her in these apartments for her own safety, but she wasn’t a prisoner. 

At least, that was what they were telling everyone. For appearances. Stephan knew better, of course. But he didn’t like to think too much about it. 

“I want my mother and father back,” Flora told him, looking away. 

Stephan looked at her for a long moment, then turned, left the room. 

“I want…” Flora’s voice stopped him, turned him around. “I want Dorothy. I want my companion.” 

Stephan hesitated. He had no idea where Flora’s companion had been taken. But he understood. He understood wanting that person, because he did too. He turned back to the door. “I’ll have her brought to you,” he said, before stepping outside. 

Felix’s companion had been killed in the fighting. Dahlia’s had escaped with her. Of course Francesca’s had escaped as well, after inciting all that fighting that had killed everyone else. Dante’s companion had died years ago, so that wasn’t a worry. Flora’s companion was just a little girl, and they’d only been together for probably a year or so. She was probably just hidden away somewhere. Stephan would direct someone to find her—it was a kindness he could do for Flora, after everything he’d taken from her. 

Stephan didn’t look at the guard on Flora’s door as he left the apartments. She wasn’t a prisoner. The guard was for her own protection. She couldn’t leave her rooms just yet, just like Stephan couldn’t leave the castle. It was the same situation, and he was hardly a prisoner. He was the king. 

Appearances. 

Stephan almost headed for his own apartments, but no. They were quiet, lonely. He went to the throne room instead, which was supposed to be lonely. It didn’t bother him as much when it was quiet in there. 

On the way there, though, he met someone. “My king,” Geoffrey DiSheere said, bowing when he saw Stephan. He was coming from the throne room. He had his father’s strong jaw and curly hair, and a pretty smile that he turned on Stephan. He was dressed in mourning black. 

“Lord Geoffrey,” Stephan said, stopping, Neville’s suggestion from before running through his head. He wasn’t going to do it, of course. “What brings you to the castle? I’m sure you’d rather avoid us if you can.” 

A sad smile. Geoffrey was only a year younger than Stephan. Too young to lose his father so violently. But then, it had been just over a year ago that Stephan had lost his father and his sister all at once. “I came to petition the throne. I was rejected.” 

Stephan blinked. “I haven’t even heard your petition yet. How can I have rejected it?”

“Lord Ulrich did, in your name. I was asking to have my father’s remains returned to my house, for a proper burial.” 

“Oh.” Gerhard DiSheere had sided with Francesca, had helped Cordelia with her little uprising that had killed so many people, more people than Stephan had killed taking over. “Lord Ulrich rejected you?” He and Margery DiCosst were two of Stephan’s closest advisors, so they had the authority to do that. 

Geoffrey nodded. “He said that the bodies of traitors don’t deserve a proper burial.” 

“Well…that’s true,” Stephan said, nodding. It made sense, even if it seemed cruel. 

“I know that, and I understand.” Another sad smile. “It just would have meant a lot to Giacomo, so I thought I’d ask, is all.”

“Your little brother,” Stephan said. He was two, three years younger than Geoffrey, Stephan thought. Not a little boy, but certainly still young.

“Yeah. He’s not taking it very well.” Geoffrey shrugged. “He’ll be okay. We have to learn to live with the consequences of our family’s mistakes, right?” 

“Yes,” Stephan said, nodding. “I suppose so.” 

“Must be hard for you.”

“Excuse me?” Stephan didn’t know what he was talking about. 

Geoffrey blinked, blushed a little. “I’m sorry if I overstep, my king. I just mean that you seem tired. It must be difficult for you trying to get used to all this.” 

“Oh. Yes, I guess it is, but I’ll manage.”

Geoffrey nodded. “I know you will. You always seem so self-assured and competent. Let me…this is silly. Let me know if I can do anything to help, okay? I know you don’t trust me or anything, but…I’d like to help.” 

Stephan looked at him, confused. “Why would you offer to help me? I killed your father.”

Geoffrey smiled, not sad this time. “Because you’re the king. Even if you don’t trust me or my family, it’s my duty to make sure you’re okay. And even if it wasn’t my duty—I can see how tired you look.” He chuckled nervously. “Anyway, sorry, that was silly. I know you have Lady Margery and Lord Ulrich to help you a lot. They’re always doing something or other, I’m surprised either of them had time to talk to me. It was a smart idea to put Ulrich in charge of the city’s security; the new curfew is a good measure to stop all those protests.” 

“Protests?” Stephan asked. He hadn’t heard of any protests. He had expected some, but not received reports of any. 

“Yeah, the holdouts who still want the DiGorres in power? They’ve happened almost constantly since you took power.” Geoffrey shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about it, the people have never known what was best for them. That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“Right, of course.” Stephan nodded. “It is. We know better. I should go. I have some work to do.” 

“Obviously, yeah,” Geoffrey said, taking a gracious step back and bowing. “I’m sorry for wasting your time with my nonsense, my king. By your leave.” 

Stephan nodded, waving a hand to dismiss him. “It wasn’t a waste of time, Geoffrey. I’ll see you.” 

“And you as well, my king.” Geoffrey retreated, and Stephan resumed his walk to the throne room, wondering about these protests that he hadn’t heard about. Why hadn’t anyone told him?

In the throne room, Ulrich Elderbyne and Margery DiCosst were talking quietly when Stephan appeared. It was a long, columned room with a dais at the front, natural light coming in from the back wall behind the throne. There was a small table set up on the dais at the moment, which was taken away when Stephan held court. “Lord Ulrich, Lady Margery,” Stephan said, approaching the table and taking a seat. 

“My king,” Ulrich said, bowing his head, having stood. He was a tall, sallow man whose round eyes looked a bit sunken. Both of them sat as Stephan did. “We’ve just had a report from Margery’s people.”

Stephan turned to Margery, a narrow woman with a small nose and long hands. “Cordelia DeThane was spotted heading west,” she said. “We’ve sent people to intercept her.” 

“She’s heading for Isabella’s territory,” Stephan said, nodding. The DeThanes controlled the land surrounding Bright Harbour. “That makes sense. We haven’t found Isabella yet, though, have we?”

“No, I’m afraid not, my king. She and her family seem to have vanished,” Margery admitted. “We have the allegiance of all the other western lords, though, so there’s nowhere for her to run.” 

“With Felix’s wife and unborn baby, I should hope not,” Stephan muttered. But there was no point in getting annoyed about something that had already happened. So he just sighed. “Tell me about the temperament of the people. Are they content?”

“Yes, my king,” Ulrich said, nodding. “They are adjusting well to the new rule, with no major issues. They have sworn fealty as expected.” 

Stephan frowned a little. “There hasn’t been any unrest? Any demonstrations, or protests of any kind?”

The two of them looked at each other. They were hiding something. “A few scattered incidents here and there,” Ulrich admitted. “Minor, not worth bringing to your attention. All monarchs have such resistance.”

“It’s impossible to please everyone,” Margery told him. “I’m sure you must have had people who disliked your rule even before you were king.” 

Stephan had, but he still felt like they weren’t telling him something. _Don’t trust anyone too much._ What had they really been talking about before he’d come into the room? “I see,” he said. “Well that’s good to hear.” He couldn’t outright accuse the two of them of lying, not without proof. How would he get the proof, though? These two had been the main people who’d urged him to take power. They had reasons for wanting that, and Stephan had assumed that it was just proximity to the throne that he could grant them. But now he wondered if it was something else. 

But no, he shouldn’t let one silly thing shake his trust in them that badly. Maybe it really hadn’t been a big deal. Maybe it had, but maybe it hadn’t. 

Stephan wished Neville were here. He would help him make sense of all this. 

Taking a breath, Stephan looked at them both in turn. “I want Flora’s companion found and brought to her. She should have a friend at a time like this.” 

Ulrich looked at Margery, who nodded. “As far as I know, she was taken back to her family. I’ll have her retrieved and brought her at once, my king.” 

“Thank you. And…” Stephan hesitated, considering. “And release Gerhard DiSheere’s remains to his son.”

“My king…” Ulrich frowned. 

“Yes, I know he’s a traitor,” Stephan interrupted. “But we killed him. And Giacomo DiSheere isn’t old enough to understand anything other than that right now. Release his remains and at least let his sons have some closure. It’ll help bring them over to our side.” 

“We don’t need the DiSheere boys on our side, my king,” Ulrich told him. “Our side is the only side.”

“I know.” Stephan nodded grimly. “And I’d rather avoid killing anyone else if we can, so the more people on that side the better. See it done.” 

“Of course, my king.” Ulrich nodded his head. “I shall make the arrangements immediately.”

“Thank you. And find Flora’s companion.” He stood. “Is there anything else?” 

“Not at present, my king. Things are proceeding smoothly.” 

“Okay.” Stephan took a breath. “Okay. Thank you, then. You’re dismissed.” 

They both bowed, and left the room slowly, leaving Stephan by himself.

Stephan looked at the dais, looked at the clean carpet. They’d replaced it to get rid of the blood stains. And he looked at the throne, imposing in its centrality. His. 

Stephan sat down on that throne, and he wondered what it was about it that made it feel so lonely.


	3. Kings Should Be Wary of Anyone Who Is too Eager to Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the last chapter more than a day or so before the posting of this chapter, just a quick note to say that I edited it a little bit, nothing major, but I clarified some of Stephan's thoughts in the early parts of the chapter since he wasn't quite coming across the way I'd wanted. There's no obligation to re-read it of course, but just thought I'd mention that in case anyone was interested. :)

“That’s most of the nobility,” Lord Ulrich said to Stephan as the last of them filtered out of the throne room. “Save those who are too far away to have made it in time.” 

“We’ve taken note of those who didn’t show up?” Stephan asked, tired. It had been a lot of people all at once, and for a long time.

“Yes, not to worry.”

“Hm.” Stephan said, worrying anyway. They’d taken the fealty of all the nobility who could make it to the capital today. They’d all said the right things and knelt before their king, but Stephan thought that it was still a good idea to worry. “And how many of the ones who were here actually meant it?”

Stephan’s head felt clearer today than it had since he’d taken the throne. He’d been thinking so much about the coup, about the fighting and bloodshed, about Neville leaving, about the DiGorres, that he hadn’t been clearly thinking about anything else. He knew better than to get distracted like that, to get stuck in his own head. He was prone to it, Neville always said. And he’d done it anyway. 

But now he felt a little clearer, a little more like himself. And he knew that most of those who’d said they would support him forever would have said the same thing to Francesca DiGorre a month ago and would say the same thing to someone else a month later if it became necessary. If Stephan died.

“Likely very few of them,” Ulrich conceded, seeming displeased. “But I doubt that is cause for concern. They are primarily concerned with themselves, as are we all, and you don’t need them to love you, only to recognize that following you is better for them than the alternative.”

Stephan agreed with that—he may be new at being the king, but he’d ruled over his own territory for long enough to figure that out on his own. But he’d also been liked before being king, and he felt that should continue. He looked at Margery. “And you’ll be keeping an eye out for those who are likely to choose that alternative?”

“Of course, my king,” Margery said with a brisk nod. “We will suffer no traitors.”

“Good. Francesca suffered some and look how that turned out for her.” He smiled. “As long as half her family is missing, anyone can claim to have them and rally under the banner. Especially Maria—anyone can hold up a baby and claim it’s Felix’s. It doesn’t have to be true. People don’t care what’s true. They care about what appears to be true.” That Stephan knew full well. Letting so many of Francesca’s family escape had been the biggest mistake he’d made in the coup and he was aware of that.

“I’m aware, my king, don’t worry.” Margery bowed. “If it happens, we’ll put a stop to it.”

“Good,” Stephan repeated, pulling the cushion on the throne out from underneath him and tossing it aside. “And be sure to tell me if it does. I want to know, even if it’s nothing.”

“There’s no use worrying yourself over…”

“I didn’t say I was going to worry,” Stephan said, interrupting Ulrich, irritated. They needed to stop treating him like a child. “Stop telling me how to feel. I said I wanted to know. The king should know what his advisors are doing in his name, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course, my king.” Ulrich stepped back a pace in deference, but it was calculated, just like the bow that Ulrich had given him when he’d joked, months ago, that Kyaine needed a different ruler. “One last…issue. Is that of the Fury Plateau.”

Oh. Stephan didn’t want to talk about the Fury Plateau. It was a nightmare. There were other issues that were more important, like taxation, the curfew, the pirates in the west. “How firmly is it out of our control?” he asked, since that was what Ulrich wanted to talk about first. There were a lot of things that they could do to make life better for people in Kyaine, and worrying about the Fury Plateau wasn’t one of them. 

“Well,” Margery said, sighing. “House Arkhewer, as far as we can tell, has been totally destroyed within the last few years, as you know. All other nobility in the area seems to have met the same fate. The Sorcerer King has taken total control of the region. And of course, Hans DiFueure is missing. He could be there.”

“He could be allied with the Sorcerer King, is what you’re suggesting,” Stephan finished. He knew this. Everyone knew this. 

“Or he could be dead,” Ulrich suggested. “Until we know for sure I don’t know that it bears…”

“Worrying about, I know.” Stephan smiled at him, keeping rein on his anger this time. Ulrich really didn’t want him to worry about anything. It was nice of him, even if it grated. Or it was because he was lying. Stephan didn’t know. “I want options for reclaiming the Fury Plateau, and for getting it away from this madman. I understand that the northern mages’ academy is setting up a coalition to fight him. Ronaldo Harrow is up there advising them. But I want to have a discussion about military options that will ensure that Dolovai doesn’t seize the territory after that. It’s Kyainese land.”

The Fury Plateau had always been a bit of a holdout. Sequestered in the far east behind some imposing mountains, nobody bothered them, and they mostly didn’t bother anyone. They’d never participated in a civil war, or any war, for that matter, since their absorption into Kyaine. It had taken two centuries to conquer them, back in the day. Even then, they remained mostly self-governed, paying taxes only when prompted. Even their nobility, largely a Kyainese imposition, wasn’t interested in courtly politics. House Arkhewer had never maintained contact with Hawk’s Roost, which was why it had taken so long to realize that they were in danger. Even attempts to bring them into the fold by marrying a younger sibling of some DiGorre monarch a century or two back hadn’t helped. 

But for all that, they were a Kyainese territory, and they were Stephan’s responsibility now. He was their king too. 

“For now we’re best off to leave them be, my king,” Ulrich said, almost immediately. Margery nodded. “We don’t have the might to attack them with forces spread out west keeping them in line and preparing to fight off the pirate armada.”

“I understand that, Ulrich,” Stephan said. “But I want to look at the options anyway. And, I shall be sending a letter to the Sorcerer King. Perhaps he will be willing to reason with a new monarch in Hawk’s Roost.”

“It’s very unlikely,” Margery warned.

“But it’s worth at least a try,” Stephan said, cutting her off. He didn’t need them telling him he was an idiot. “That’s all. Thank you for your counsel.” 

They looked at each other, Margery and Ulrich, and bowed together. “Thank, you, my king,” Ulrich said, and the two of them retreated, leaving Stephan alone on the throne. 

But not for long. He got up, stretched, and headed out through a side door, ignoring the guards who opened it for him—trying to remember which were his and which weren’t just made him anxious. They were all his. He headed down a short hall, and into a small sitting room, where Geoffrey was nursing a cup of coffee. He stood when Stephan came in, still wearing black but with his house colours, red, yellow and white at his cuffs. “My king,” he said, pulling a roll of paper out of his shirt. “Your servant seemed to think you wanted to see me.”

“I did,” Stephan said, waving him into a chair. He sat as well, let Geoffrey pour him some coffee. “How is Giacomo?”

Geoffrey shrugged. “He feels a little better now that we’ve buried our father. Thank you for that.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” It had been the right thing to do. 

“Don’t misunderstand. He still blames you, my king. But he’s less upset now.”

Stephan smiled, though that hurt. “That’s all I could hope for.” It was his fault, after all. Just like the DiGorres, Stephan hadn’t asked for Gerhard to die, but he’d been behind it. It wasn’t a stretch for Giacomo to blame him. Stephan had never even met the boy. He wondered how many other people he’d never met hated him. Too many. It would be hard to fix that. “How’s the temperament in the city?”

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure your advisors must tell you that, my king?”

“They do. I’m asking you anyway.”

“It’s much the same,” Geoffrey told him, sipping the coffee while Stephan sugared his. “Tense, not violent. I do think people are starting to dislike the curfew, but they’ll get used to it.” 

Stephan nodded. He’d dislike being under a curfew too. He had to get that lifted, once it was safe. “And the nobility today. You were there. What was your impression of them?”

“They were swearing fealty because they had no choice,” Geoffrey told him, looking curiously at Stephan. “I don’t mean to insult you, my king. But surely you’re aware of that. If someone named DiGorre showed up tomorrow…”

“I understand.” If someone with the name DiGorre rode down from the north with an army, that would be very bad. Stephan had to hope that they were doing the right thing up there and just returning Franz to him. He didn’t want to fight a war. They’d win, but wars were never good. “It’s a loyalty of convenience.”

“Not sure I’d call that loyalty, but yes. Fully half of them probably plan to actively work against you, is my guess,” Geoffrey said, adding a small smile as Stephan paused. “That’s about the number who usually act against the throne actively, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but to hear you say it so confidently…”

Geoffrey shrugged. “The only different is that they’re likely to fall under mostly the same banner, so where against Francesca you had easily twenty different plots, most of them clashed against one another and were easy to control. You won because you managed to collect plots under one banner. Your problem now is that the old banner is a good rallying point for all those discontents.”

“What…” Stephan paused. This was a good way for him to get the measure of Geoffrey. He hadn’t thought of it like that before. “What would you suggest I do about that?”

“The same thing I assume your advisors are suggesting,” Geoffrey said. “Remind them that they’re interested in themselves above all else. Neuter them by scattering them. Don’t let them unite under one cause, split them back into twenty.” 

“Divide and conquer.”

“It’s always worked in the past.”

Stephan nodded. Geoffrey was right. And it was nothing at all like what Ulrich and Margery had told him. He had to remind himself that Geoffrey had every reason to lie to him too, to mislead him. But it was easy to believe him when he said he wanted to help. “The Fury Plateau. What do you think I should do about it?”

“Take it back,” Geoffrey said immediately. Then he smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, that’s a terrible piece of military advice, you’re probably laughing at me. And of course you know I have a vested interest.”

“Your lands are very close.” 

“They are. If that Sorcerer King decides to claim more territory, it’ll be mine he decides to take and I don’t like that idea much.”

“Not to mention,” Stephan added, because there was more to it, “that yours will be the logical family to take over the area if we do take it back into the fold.”

Geoffrey grinned. “Can’t sneak much past you. Not to mention that. So from a purely selfish standpoint, take it back. And give it to me. Speaking slightly more nationally, it’s a bad idea to attack it, especially if Hans DiFueure is there. I know there’s no other way, and that you have more important things to worry about, but I wish…”

“I’m going to write him a letter,” Stephan said, wondering. Maybe it was silly. “The Sorcerer King. It’s worth a try.”

“He took over the Plateau with violence,” Geoffrey said quietly, giving Stephan a long look. “He might appreciate you as a ruler, as long as you don’t try to talk down to him too much. Sorry,” he said right away, blushing. He was kind of cute. “That was out of line.”

“It was, but pretending it didn’t happen when it did is silly too.” Stephan sighed, set his mostly full coffee cup down. He’d never much liked coffee. “I want to do something that’s going to annoy my advisors.” 

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’d like to make you one of them,” Stephan said, smiling at the look of pure surprise on Geoffrey’s face. “You tell me the truth, which I appreciate. You have every reason to flatter me and you don’t bother. You don’t try to say what you think I want to hear. You’re intelligent.”

“Don’t stop,” Geoffrey said, when Stephan waited. “Keep complimenting me, my king. I think the next thing you wanted to say was that I’m dangerous. My father was a staunch supporter of the former queen, and my house may have no power anymore, but we still have our name. And I could be a banner for people. But putting me on your council keeps me where you can see me, and where Margery and Ulrich can see me. It’s good politics.”

“I try to do those at least once in a while,” Stephan said, almost laughing. Geoffrey was right, though Stephan hadn’t thought of most of that, if he was honest with himself. He’d wanted Geoffrey where Ulrich and Margery could see him, that much was true. “But it’s also nice to have an advisor I can trust.”

“Ah. So you don’t currently have one of those, interesting. I guess that’s what happens when you’re in bed with two people who both wanted the throne for themselves.”

Stephan nodded, finding himself uncomfortable with that. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Geoffrey that. He’d just said what he was thinking. He wasn’t supposed to do that. “I’m not in bed with them. Just…closely tied.”

“Would you like to be in bed with me?” Geoffrey asked, before breaking into blushing laughter. “Sorry, that was extremely inappropriate. Obviously I didn’t mean it like that.”

Stephan wondered if that was true, blushing himself. “From your point of view, befriending me is the best thing you can do. Don’t think I don’t see you flirting. Being in bed with me is even better than being my friend. I think you did mean it like that, Lord Geoffrey.” It was…nice. It was fake, but Stephan kind of didn’t think it entirely was. It seemed like Geoffrey might actually like him. And even if Stephan knew he didn’t, it might be nice to pretend. 

Geoffrey’s blush darkened, and he looked nervous now. “I’m sorry, my king. I really didn’t mean to imply…”

Stephan laughed. “Calm down. I could…” he felt himself blush. “I could use someone in my bed. Neville’s away and Flora’s a child.”

Geoffrey blinked. “The fact that it’s for political gain doesn’t bother you?”

Stephan gave a shrug. “No. Everything all of us do is for political gain, Geoffrey. The fact that you’re a replacement doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Not at all. I’ll play bedwarmer for you until your companion gets back if that’s what you need.” Geoffrey smiled. “My king.”

“And we’ll both get what we want.”

“It’s all very professional,” Geoffrey agreed. “No feelings attached. Promise.”

Stephan smiled, looked down at the coffee. And he stood up. “Well in that case, you can await my summons, Lord Geoffrey. I shall have you visit later in the week, I think.” Neville would approve of how he’d handled that, Stephan thought. 

“So as not to appear too eager and demonstrate that you’re still in charge, of course, my king.” Geoffrey bowed. “I thank you for this opportunity to serve my king and kingdom.”

“And I thank you for your counsel, Geoffrey.” Stephan nodded, then he turned to go. “I’ll see you.”

“Yes, you will, my king.” 

Stephan stepped out into the hallway, heart beating. That had been harder than he’d thought. But also easier. Neville had been right, as usual. He’d been very eager for that. He’d been flirting even before Stephan had brought it up. Maybe not even entirely for political reasons. 

So, with that settled, Stephan went to take stock of his military. He was going to need it.


	4. It Is to the Benefit of Everyone to Satisfy a King’s Needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephan and Geoffrey's arrangement begins.

Stephan didn’t answer the first knock on his bedroom door. He knew who it was, and he was oddly nervous. Why was he nervous? He didn’t know, really. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was going to happen, it wasn’t like he wasn’t in control and it wasn’t like he didn’t have Neville’s blessing to do it. But still he didn’t answer the first time. 

When the knock sounded the second time, Stephan nodded to himself, taking a breath. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Come in.” 

The door to his apartments opened, and in came Geoffrey, dressed like for a formal meeting and smiling. “Your guards seemed skeptical that I was here to talk about military strategy.” 

“Is that what you told them?” Stephan asked. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to tell them I was here to suck your dick,” Geoffrey said with a smirk as he came over and sat in the chair next to Stephan. 

Stephan cleared his throat. “You’re not just here for that.” That made him sound too much like a prostitute for Stephan’s liking. 

“Well, no, we could have done that in the dining room the other day.” Geoffrey leaned in a little, running a finger down Stephan’s arm. “Right?”

“I meant…” Stephan blushed a little, and tried not to. “We could talk about military strategy too.” Part of him felt oddly bad for just using Geoffrey for sex. 

“Sure. I am your advisor, aren’t I? As well as it went over.” 

Ulrich and Margery had not, predictably, been pleased when Geoffrey had started attending their strategy meetings. But Stephan was the king and he made that decision, not them. Geoffrey disagreed with almost everything they said, which he’d told Stephan was because whether or not they were right, he needed to hear another opinion so he had a real choice. “Yes, you are. Do you think I’m devoting too much resources to the piracy problem?”

“No. They attacked Pelican Bay last week in force. They could attack Bright Harbour next. It needs to be dealt with, no matter what Ulrich thinks. And besides,” Geoffrey said, his finger still on Stephan’s arm. “Isabella DeThane is probably in Bright Harbour. If all the soldiers you deploy just so happen to lead to you finding her, that’s an ideal situation for everyone.” 

“Everyone but her.” 

“She’s a traitor, and Francesca DiGorre’s grandchild is with her,” Geoffrey reminded him. “It’s literally not possible for you to devote too much resources to finding her before that becomes a problem. And frankly it’s weird that Ulrich would suggest it was.” 

Stephan nodded. That was what he thought too. He wondered what Ulrich’s ulterior motive was. “Weren’t you courting her daughter?” 

“Yeah, that didn’t really work out on account of her fleeing Hawk’s Roost.” Geoffrey chuckled. “Oh well. Means I don’t have anyone to distract me from you.” 

Stephan laughed too. “True, I guess. Ulrich and Margery both have marriageable daughters. You could marry one of them.” 

“I will if you want me to,” Geoffrey said, sliding that finger up to Stephan’s shoulder, tracing his collarbone. “Both of them would have a stroke at the mere suggestion.” 

“Alliances between their families and yours would be good. For you and for the kingdom.” It was getting harder to ignore Geoffrey touching him. 

“Hm.” Geoffrey brought his finger up to Stephan’s neck, up his throat and to his chin. “I notice you didn’t mention whether it would be good for them.” 

Stephan smiled. “I just didn’t think you cared about that.” He hadn’t meant anything by it. 

“Well, I don’t really. But it’s a useful selling point for them.” Geoffrey quirked a lopsided grin. “Can I kiss you?” 

Stephan turned his head a bit. “I’d…rather you didn’t.” The only person who’d ever kissed him was Neville. It was something Stephan wanted to keep, at least a while longer. 

“Okay,” Geoffrey said easily. “On the lips or everywhere? What if I wanted to kiss you somewhere more interesting?”

“Well,” Stephan smiled at that. “I could be okay with that.” He was getting hard now. 

Geoffrey got off his chair, took Stephan’s hand, and kissed that. “Tell me if you want me to stop, then.” 

“I can do that.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Geoffrey kept Stephan’s hand in his and lowered himself to his knees, and he kissed Stephan’s belly. “Hm…”

“What?”

Geoffrey smirked and unabashedly kissed Stephan between his legs. “Would be more fun to kiss you if these clothes weren’t in the way, my king.” 

“Ah,” Stephan said, nodding. He was a bit thrown by how easy Geoffrey was being about this. It was easy to just follow his lead. “Well maybe you should get them out of the way then, Lord Geoffrey.” 

“Maybe I should,” Geoffrey agreed, and he started to unlace Stephan’s pants—he was just wearing a loose pair of them and his loincloth for the evening, having changed out of his formal wear earlier on. So it wasn’t too hard for Geoffrey to open them and pull them down far enough. “Ah, here’s the real problem,” he said, poking at Stephan’s loincloth. “This evil thing keeping the king from his people’s adoration.” 

“Stop,” Stephan chuckled. “This isn’t funny.” 

“If you don’t think sex is funny you’re not doing it right,” Geoffrey disagreed, tugging at Stephan’s loincloth to undo it. He got Stephan’s mostly hard cock free and held it in his hand for a second, then leaned in and kissed it on the head. Stephan gasped at the feeling, one he hadn’t had in a while. And Geoffrey smiled. “Better.” 

Before Stephan could respond, Geoffrey kissed him again, keeping his lips in place this time, sucking down on him, taking Stephan into his mouth with no concern at all. 

Stephan gripped the arms of the chair as Geoffrey sucked him, watching Geoffrey’s curly hair as Geoffrey sucked on him, hand stroking Stephan as he did. His mouth was hot and wet and a lot like Neville’s, and after a few minutes it got to be too much and Stephan shut his eyes and tilted his head back, focusing on the feeling of Geoffrey’s tongue, of his lips, of his hand. 

When Geoffrey suddenly dipped down, took the rest of Stephan in his mouth all at once, into his throat, that was it for Stephan. He came with a cry, shooting down Geoffrey’s throat, not surprised that Geoffrey swallowed it all. 

When he was done Stephan slumped, and Geoffrey lifted his head, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “So how about that? Can I kiss you again sometime?” 

Stephan giggled, smiling down at Geoffrey. “I suppose if you’re going to do it like that.” 

“Good.” Geoffrey stood, a clear tent in his pants. “Now, I submit myself to the king’s justice. All those children of yours, swallowed in an instant. A capital crime, for sure.” 

Stephan laughed some more. It shouldn’t be funny. “Stop.” 

“Does that mean you don’t have a fitting punishment for me?” 

Stephan stood up, taking Geoffrey’s hand. “Let’s go in the bedroom.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a punishment,” Geoffrey said, letting Stephan pull him that way. Stephan held his pants up with one hand so he didn’t trip as they went. “Guess I’m pardoned.” 

“Don’t be so quick to assume that,” Stephan warned him, smiling to himself. “I’ve been told that I have too much stamina. You have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”

“Now I’m really excited.” 

Stephan snorted as they entered the bedroom, letting his pants fall, unravelling his loincloth to go with it. He stripped out of his shirt as he headed for the bed, looking over his shoulder at Geoffrey. “Then you’d better get over here before I get bored.” 

“As you wish, my king,” Geoffrey said with a grin, unlacing the sleeves of his shirt, then the neck. Stephan sat on the bed, retrieving his oil from the table while he watched Geoffrey take his shirt off, then his boots, then start on his pants. 

As those slid down, Stephan raised an eyebrow, watching Geoffrey’s cock fly free. “No loincloth, Lord Geoffrey?”

“What?” Geoffrey asked, turning that smirk on Stephan again. “That’s how I always dress for military strategy meetings.” 

“Is that so?” Stephan asked, resisting the urge to chuckle as Geoffrey stepped out of his pants. He made no secret of looking him up and down, admiring his muscles. “I may ask you to prove that sometime.” 

“Please do,” Geoffrey told him, coming and joining Stephan on the bed. “I’ll show you whenever you ask.” 

“In the throne room?”

“Wherever it pleases my king to be so served.” 

They looked at each other for a second in a staring contest, before Stephan couldn’t take it anymore and pushed the bottle of oil into Geoffrey’s hand. “Prepare yourself.” 

“Aw, I don’t get the royal fingers?”

“Not tonight.” Stephan wanted to watch him. He was pretty. Probably the second prettiest boy Stephan had ever seen. And at a glance, he might have been bigger than Neville. 

“Fine, then, I guess I’ll be satisfied with just the royal cock.” Geoffrey smirked at him for a moment longer before laying back on Stephan’s bed, uncorking the bottle and oiling up his fingers. Stephan watched raptly, throbbing a little, as Geoffrey slid one finger inside himself without too much trouble, moaning a little, eyes half-closed. The second finger went in more slowly but just as easily, eliciting another noise from Geoffrey that had Stephan’s breath catching. 

Geoffrey fingered himself like that for a moment, sliding both fingers and in and out, spreading them now and again to stretch himself, moaning all the while. Then, looking back at Stephan, he made eye contact and started to slide in a third finger, whinging as it went in. Not in pain, but in pleasure. He was enjoying this. “You like it,” Stephan said. “You like me watching you.” 

“Who wouldn’t…ah…like having his king’s…undivided…fuck, attention?” Geoffrey asked, getting the third finger as far in as he could. With that done, he smiled at Stephan and started to slide in and out again, spreading his legs even farther to make sure Stephan could see. 

Stephan could see, alright, he could see Geoffrey stretched wide to accommodate his fingers, see the look on his face as he was penetrated, see his leaking cock. He was having fun. 

And then he started to slide his little finger inside as well. “Now you’re just showing off.” 

“You make me want to impress you,” Geoffrey said, eyes shut. “Besides…besides, I need to make room for your royal girth.” 

Stephan rolled his eyes, even as the compliment made him giggle. He wasn’t that big, though. “I think you’ve done that. You can have it now if you’ll take those fingers out.” 

“Alright,” Geoffrey said, pulling the fingers out with a moan and stretching his legs apart to show Stephan his stretched hole. “Yours to conquer, my king.” 

Stephan nodded, crawled closer and grabbed the discarded bottle of oil to pour onto his own cock. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered. 

Geoffrey blinked. “Aw, I wanted to watch you.” 

“Not this time.” Stephan wasn’t sure he wanted to watch Geoffrey. Not the first time, anyway. 

“As you wish,” Geoffrey said with a sigh, rolling over. “Someday, though.” 

“Someday,” Stephan promised, getting on his knees behind Geoffrey. “If you satisfy me.” 

“I’ll hide in my bedroom in shame if I don’t, my king.” 

Stephan chuckled again, grabbing Geoffrey’s hips. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. 

Geoffrey moaned again as Stephan entered him, not roughly but not slowly either. It was obvious that Geoffrey could handle it—most any noble his age should be able to after years with a companion—so Stephan wasn’t going to baby him. 

It didn’t seem like Geoffrey wanted to be babied, either, not by the way he moaned when Stephan entered him, by the way he started to move back on to Stephan’s cock before Stephan was all the way inside. So Stephan went in quickly, and started thrusting with his hands on Geoffrey’s hips to hold him in place. 

Geoffrey was tight inside, despite how stretchy he’d seemed, and he was clenching around Stephan as if struggling to keep him in every time Stephan pulled back and out. He was moaning with every thrust, clearly liking Stephan inside him. 

Which was good, because Stephan had no intention of going anywhere, and he drove deeper inside Geoffrey with a grunt, the fact that he’d cum a minute ago letting him go longer. He gave a few hard thrusts, got a lot more noise out of Geoffrey, and suddenly Geoffrey tensed up underneath him, cried out his name, and came without having been touched, splattering the blankets below him with cum. 

Stephan didn’t let that deter him and if anything he sped up, watching Geoffrey’s back muscles contract, shine with sweat, as Stephan fucked him. 

It was a few more minutes yet before Stephan was ready, and he pushed as hard inside Geoffrey as he could as his cock throbbed violently, and he grunted as he came, waves of bliss washing over Stephan as he shot. 

When he was done he slumped, remained inside Geoffrey, still throbbing a little. Sweat covered his body now too, and he ran a hand down Geoffrey’s back. “I liked that.” 

Geoffrey nodded, sweat-slick curls bouncing. “Then I don’t have to hide in shame. I liked it too.” 

“Good.” Stephan smiled, shifting. “Because I’m going to do it again.” 

Geoffrey looked over his shoulder, challenging smile on his face. “By all means, my king. Do your worst.” 

Stephan grinned, straightening as he started to move again. “You’ll wish you hadn’t said that when you can’t sit down for the council meeting tomorrow.” 

“You don’t scare me.” 

Once again, Neville had been right. As he picked up speed inside Geoffrey, Stephan realized that he was having more fun now than he had since taking the crown, and felt a lot better, a lot calmer, a lot safer than he had since Neville had left. 

And Stephan hoped to stay that way.


	5. Being King Involves A Lot of Meetings, and Some of Them Are Even Useful

Stephan never felt less like the king than when he was stuck in a meeting with his counsellors. 

It was a daily occurrence, two hours out of every afternoon dedicated to sitting down with Ulrich, Margery and Geoffrey and talking about how everything was going. Stephan could easily have not gone, but knowing that the rest of them were meeting without him would be worse—he’d have no idea what they’d spoken about. 

“We will be lightening the curfew starting this week,” Ulrich was saying, reading from a report. “To see how it goes. If the people are calm, things can proceed. If there are incidents, we shall have to reinstate it later.” 

“Define ‘incidents,’ Lord Ulrich,” Geoffrey said, leaning back in his chair and watching Ulrich. 

Ulrich gave Geoffrey a withering look. “Anything which threatens the safety of the king or the city, of course.” 

“Hm.” Geoffrey tilted his head, curls falling into his face from the right. He brushed them aside. “That’s what I mean. Does one lone man yelling at the castle gates about how the king is a dog-fucker constitute a threat to his safety? I don’t think so. Do ten? Do a hundred? The gates are pretty strong. What about a child throwing fruit at a guardsman? Seems to me like anything short of a riot shouldn’t count as a threatening ‘incident.’” 

“Perhaps you only think that because you’ve never had to live through people calling you slanderous things just because they can, Lord Geoffrey,” Margery said, tapping a finger on the table. “It’s not pleasant.”

“I’ve been called my share of names,” Geoffrey said with a smirk. “Some of them even unearned. My point is…”

“Your point is taken,” Ulrich told him. “You would have the city run riot with no supervision. We understand.”

Geoffrey laughed. “Your mind reading needs some work, Lord Ulrich. My point is that the decision on whether to extend the curfew should lay with the king, not us.” He looked at Stephan. “Surely he is the best assessor of his own safety?”

They were all looking at him now. Stephan unsteepled his fingers, looking at the three of them in turn, thinking. “Geoffrey’s right,” he said after a moment. “Ease the curfew, but unless there’s an actual riot, I don’t want you to institute it again without consulting me.”

Ulrich maintained a steely disposition, but he nodded. “It shall be done, my king,” he said. “I do not believe there is any other business for today. Margery?”

“None,” Margery agreed. “The troops are being moved west as you requested, and there continue to be no leads on finding Isabella DeThane. I assume that the northern king’s letter requires no response?”

Stephan shook his head. Gerard ven Sancte had sent a missive back to him to tell him that for reasons of stability, he wanted to wait and make sure that Stephan had a firm grasp on his new kingdom before renegotiating anything with him. He had said nothing about returning Franz.

Neville should be getting there any day now. He’d send a letter to let Stephan know what was happening up there. He’d negotiate with ven Sancte. He’d fix it. 

“In that case…”

“I have something to talk about,” Geoffrey said, holding up a hand. “Before we go.”

“Why are the rest of us unsurprised, Lord Geoffrey?” Margery asked, rolling her eyes. “You seem never to cease talking.” 

Geoffrey smiled. “Something I’ve been accused of, yes. It does make it hard for me to hear the answers sometimes. Speaking of which, I haven’t heard back from you yet.”

“Ah, yes.” Margery smiled. “I’m sorry. Marion asked me to tell you that she’s considered your proposal for marriage and decided to turn you down. Graciously, of course, and with assurances that it’s no fault of yours.”

“I thank her for her grace,” said Geoffrey, obviously unbothered, though that must have stung, Stephan thought. “I shall mourn what could have been.”

“I’m sure you’ll have help with that,” Ulrich said, quietly. But not quietly enough not to be heard.

“Sorry?” Geoffrey asked. “I didn’t catch that, Lord Ulrich.”

“Nothing, Lord Geoffrey. Only that I’m sure your brother shall be pleased to hear the news.” 

A chuckle. Stephan wondered what that meant. “No doubt he will. But that’s not what I’d like to discuss.”

Still trying to figure that out, Stephan looked at him. “What do you want to discuss, then?” Margery wasn’t wrong; Geoffrey liked to talk. It was overwhelming. 

“The size of this council,” Geoffrey said, waving around to the four of them. “In the past it’s been a monarch and no less than five advisors, sometimes numbering as many as ten. Why are there only three of us to make suggestions to the king?”

That wasn’t a bad point, Stephan reflected. Francesca had had seven main advisors, including himself, Ulrich, Margery and Geoffrey’s father. 

Ulrich gave Geoffrey one of those looks. Stephan was glad that those looks were never turned on him. “Because,” he said patiently, “at times like these when so many people’s loyalties are in question, it is best to limit who has the ear of the king when we don’t know what they’ll be whispering to him.”

“Surely the king is smart enough to discern when one of his advisors doesn’t have the kingdom’s best interests at heart?” Geoffrey asked. “Come on. Let’s just admit that it’s because we don’t want other people having any power, shall we?”

“That is quite the accusation, young man.”

“Indeed it is, Lord Ulrich,” Geoffrey said, smiling at him. “I suggest we consider inviting some people to the council. Jens DiHerre, for example. Or Danai DiRocce, or maybe Tanya Grournight.” 

“Eastern houses all,” Margery accused. 

“Your grasp of geography remains impressive,” Geoffrey said with a nod. “Yes, eastern houses.” 

“And therefore friends of yours. In fact, Jens DiHeere is your cousin and Tanya Grournight is your aunt.” 

“On my mother’s side, yes,” Geoffrey admitted. “You also have a good grasp of my family tree. I applaud you.”

“Do you imagine that none of us can see you attempting to weight this council with your family?” Ulrich asked. 

“It’s true, Geoffrey,” Stephan said quietly. “We’re not going to let you do that. It’s…” It was what Stephan had done prior to his own takeover. 

Geoffrey nodded, slightly abashed. “Fair enough. They were only the first ones to come to mind. What about Wayne DiGarret? Or Hector Fellendart? Or Esmerelda Poilnan? Or what’s his name, lord of House Matternach?” 

“Three houses on the northern border,” Margery supplied, “and one in the west—directly bordering what used to be DeThane lands. Are you insane or are you actively trying to destabilize the kingdom?”

“Then where are we to draw people from if not the east, north or west?” Geoffrey asked. “Your friends and cousins in their lands around Hawk’s Roost, I assume. That worked out well for House DiGorre. What about the south? Forgive me, I don’t know all the names, but Houses DiSenne, Ochkar, Fyrwald? All allies of House Fyrhawk—why aren’t any of them here?” He pointed at Stephan. “Janus DiCrawe, he’s a southern lord. I’ve met him, he’s smart.”

“He’s younger than you,” Ulrich said, dismissive. 

“Yes, his mother just died. Children whose parents have just died are easy to manipulate, which I know you know full well, Lord Ulrich. It’s someone we could count on to be loyal to the king.” 

Stephan held up a hand, quieting them. “That’s enough.” Janus DiCrawe was a friendly boy. Children whose parents had died were easy to manipulate. That had struck Stephan, making him feel funny. He’d befriended Ulrich and Margery both shortly after his father and older sister had died, killed in an accident, their carriage skidding off the road in a rainstorm. “We’ll talk about this next week when you have real suggestions instead of just a list of every name you know, Geoffrey. I don’t want to increase the size of the council just for the sake of doing it. Only if there are people who can actually bring something useful to the table.” 

“Alright,” Geoffrey said, deferring. “I just think we need a few more people who have Kyaine’s best interests at heart.” 

“I do not appreciate that implication, young man,” Ulrich grumbled. Margery looked angry too. Geoffrey always managed to make them both angry at the end of the meetings.

Geoffrey shrugged. “I don’t doubt that you do, Lord Ulrich. I’m sure that’s why you’ve elected not to tell the king about the two letters he received today. Because it’s for the best, right?”

The room went deathly silent. Geoffrey watched Ulrich. So did Margery. Ulrich had gone very still, but red in the face. Stephan straightened in his chair. “What letters? Ulrich, what is this about?”

“Nothing that you need be concerned about, my king,” Ulrich said, tone conciliatory. “Else I’d have told you immediately.” 

“You received a letter from Franz DiGorre,” Geoffrey cut in. “Just after the official missive from ven Sancte.”

Stephan’s heart skipped. “What? And you didn’t think that was important?”

“I…” Ulrich looked like he wanted to kill Geoffrey. “No. He has no power. There is no cause to…”

“Give it to me, now,” Stephan told him. He was angry—what else had Ulrich been keeping from him? 

Ulrich hesitated for just a moment. “You’re going to pretend you don’t have it, are you?” Geoffrey asked, innocent. 

Closing his eyes, Ulrich reached into his coat, withdrew a small scroll. The seal of House DiGorre kept it closed. He handed the letter to Stephan. 

Stephan broke that seal, unrolled the letter, scowling. His hand shook as he held up the roll of paper. “To the Late King Stephan,” he read. “I hope this letter finds you in the best possible health. Don’t let ven Sancte’s letter fool you. He’ll do as you say soon enough. I’ll be returning to Kyaine before he can, though. I look forward to seeing you soon.” Stephan set the letter on the table, hands in his lap to hide their shaking. “It’s signed King Franz DiGorre, third of his name.” 

Margery took the letter, read it over. “He’s trying to frighten you,” she muttered. “Ulrich is right—it’s not worth wasting your time on.”

He was succeeding at frightening Stephan. The second King Franz, Francesca’s grandfather, had been contested in his rule by Lady Selena Fyrhawk, Stephan’s great-great-grandmother. And he’d won. And she’d been hanged. And the south had been effectively shut out of leadership in Kyaine until last year.

“Sounds like he doesn’t have faith in the ven Sanctes,” Geoffrey mused, while Ulrich read over the letter. “He’ll be returning before they can return him. He’s going to leave without, well, leave. They don’t want a war with you. But he does.” 

“He won’t win,” Stephan said, sure of that. “He’d be killed.”

“I think you’re underestimating how many people would rally under his banner—and also that it doesn’t matter if he dies. Someone else will pick up the cause.” Geoffrey was tapping his foot as he thought. “I think you should announce your betrothal to someone. Someone who isn’t his sister.”

“What?” Stephan frowned. “Why? Marrying Flora is a legitimizing act for me.”

“Yes. But it also tells him that she’s in no danger. If you set her aside and marry someone else, it’s a threat to him.” Geoffrey held up his hands. “I’m not saying you should hurt her. But he won’t be as brave if he thinks you’re going to kill his only living relative.” 

“She’s not his only living relative, Donovan is out there somewhere too, and so is Dahlia, and Maria and the baby,” Stephan reminded him. 

“Yeah, well, you guys fucked that one up.” Geoffrey shrugged. “Marry someone else. Apparently Margery’s daughter is available. Honestly, though—Regina Matternacht. Or Celeste Ochkar, depending on whether you want to shore up the west or show southern strength. I’m serious.” 

“We should also prepare for the possibility that we might have to kill Flora,” Ulrich said, setting the letter down. “There’s no reason to keep her alive if you’re not going to marry her. And if Franz is going to start a civil war, having her captive is only going to incite people against you.”

“Killing an eight-year-old girl is also going to incite people against us,” Geoffrey said. “And let’s not forget that by the end of the week, Franz is going to have Horace Fyrhawk hostage.” 

“And Neville,” Stephan said quietly. “Oh, no. He’s going to have Neville.”

Stephan didn’t care about Horace. But Franz was going to have Neville hostage. He would…

Stephan had told Neville not to go. 

“We’re not hurting Flora,” Stephan decided. He already hadn’t wanted to do that—it was awful—but he especially wasn’t going to if the same would be done to Neville. “And I’m not breaking off the engagement. I don’t want to give him the impression that I will hurt her, not while he has Neville and Horace.” 

“The ven Sanctes aren’t going to want to risk a war by taking them hostage, my king,” Margery told Stephan. “You haven’t got anything to worry about.” 

“I do, because Franz made it clear that he’s not working with the ven Sanctes, didn’t he?” Stephan snapped, shaking his head. “No. We’ll assume that Horace and Neville have been taken hostage until we know otherwise.”

“It may be worth responding to the northern king’s letter after all,” Ulrich suggested, and Stephan nodded. 

He nodded, but then he looked at Ulrich. “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me about?”

Ulrich sighed. “I didn’t know the content of the letter. I assumed it was just an empty threat.” 

“You were wrong.” Fuck. Stephan didn’t know what to do. He wanted someone to tell him what to do—but the people who normally did that were either about to be taken hostage by his enemies or sitting here and this table and obviously not trustworthy. Fuck. Maybe he did need more advisors after all. “Geoffrey said there were two letters. Who was the other one from? Doubtless someone else you didn’t think mattered.”

With another sigh, Ulrich pulled a second, longer, roll from his pocket. “It is from the Sorcerer King in the Fury Plateau.”

Stephan glared at him. “You knew I was waiting for a response from him. Lord Ulrich, why would you keep that from me?”

“It was not my intention to deceive, my king,” Ulrich insisted. “I was going to tell you. Just not in the meeting where it might take away time from other matters of importance.”

Because these things didn’t matter—a personal threat to Stephan and a reply to a letter Ulrich hadn’t wanted him to send. They didn’t matter to Ulrich, only to Stephan. He understood, and he reached over and took the letter from Ulrich’s hand. This one also had a seal on it, one he didn’t recognize. He broke it and opened the letter, deciding not to read it aloud this time. 

_To King Stephan,_

_I perceive no reason why you and I cannot exist peacefully together. So long as you recognize my right to rule the Fury Plateau, we can be allies. Your predecessor did not recognize that and sent an army to kill my father—Lord Hans is still my guest. I will send him back to you as a gesture of good will. I believe he is eager to meet you. I anticipate a good partnership between us._

_From Samson of Clan Netzer, the Sorcerer King_

Underneath that was another paragraph in what looked like the same hand, but it was gibberish. Perhaps Samson had a child who’d wanted to write a letter too. 

Stephan tossed the letter on the table for the three of them to read. Geoffrey frowned at it, but Ulrich picked it up first. “He’s only willing to cooperate if I recognize his sovereignty over the Plateau,” Stephan muttered, dejected. It helped take his mind off the situation with Franz, but only because it meant he’d messed up. There’d been no point in trying to reach out. Stephan wasn’t going to cede the Fury Plateau to this pretender, which King Samson had to know. 

“There’s more to it than that,” Ulrich muttered, stroking his chin. “It’s not unlikely he has an alliance with Hans DiFueure.” He handed the letter to Margery. 

Stephan hadn’t noticed that. Great. Hans was Dante DiGorre’s brother. “I took over because Hans way away in the east,” he muttered. “I guess it’s only fair that he’d come back and try to take it back.” 

“The Plateau doesn’t have that impressive an army,” Margery said. “And Hans has no claim to the throne himself. I’d recall some of the troops you sent west, but I don’t think it’s worth worrying about.” 

“I think you’re wrong, the east has more going for it than you think, and who knows what kind of magical power the Sorcerer King will have given him to boot?” Geoffrey asked, peering at the letter in Margery’s hands. “Have the wizards ever gotten around to sending someone here?”

“Their representative should be arriving shortly,” Ulrich confirmed.

“It’s about time,” Stephan muttered. The wizards had always supported the crown of Kyaine. That they hadn’t immediately sent someone to Stephan had been a snub and Stephan had known that. 

“We might need that, let’s not forget that House DiGorre fell because they sent too many people west and didn’t recall them,” Geoffrey said, still peering. “What’s that part at the bottom?”

“Just nonsense,” Margery told him. “Someone scribbling.”

“No,” Geoffrey said. He snatched the letter from her hands, looking closely at it. “No, it isn’t. It’s Chez’n.”

“The language they speak on the Plateau,” Stephan said. He hadn’t recognized it. Of course, he didn’t know it, so that was probably why.

“Yeah,” Geoffrey said distantly, squinting at it. “Hold on, I can translate it. I’m a bit rusty, though, so just…” he wiggled a hand for patience. 

“It likely says nothing of import,” Ulrich muttered.

“Shh…‘It is forever helping…’ no, perfect tense, continual. “It has always helped…benefited us both to…’ _dzek’kay_ , look past, ignore. ‘It has always benefited us both to ignore one another. Hawk’s Roost will…’ no, subjunctive, ‘should continue to leave Ech’kent untouched and we will do the same for you. We do not want an alliance. We do not want your attention. And you do not want our attention. The Sorcerer King is under… control. Ech’kent will manage its own affairs, as it always has.’ That’s it.” Geoffrey sighed. “It’s signed…”

He didn’t finish. “Geoffrey?” Stephan asked. It didn’t matter who’d signed it, but Geoffrey was making a weird face at the letter, the blood draining from his face. 

“It’s signed Lord Henry,” Geoffrey whispered. “Of House Arkhewer.” 

“There is no House Arkhewer,” Margery said, huffing. “Not anymore. It’s gone.”

“I know that,” Geoffrey said, still frowning at the letter. 

“It’s typical nonsense out of the Plateau,” Ulrich said with a dismissive wave. “They’re always going on about independence and how they’re not part of Kyaine. It’s just bluster.”

“Henry was the heir to House Arkhewer,” Geoffrey said, obviously not listening to Ulrich. “Lady Harriet and my uncle Giovanni had two kids, Henry and Gina.”

“Another cousin?” Stephan asked. 

Geoffrey nodded. “Our fathers were twins. He’s a bit older than me. I was…ten years old last time I saw him? I…could he have survived?”

“It’s very unlikely,” Margery said. Not in a mean way, Stephan thought. “It’s much more likely it’s just someone using his name.” 

“Maybe, but…” Geoffrey trailed off. 

“Is it possible to contact this person?” Stephan asked. “You could write back to him and try to find out if it’s really your cousin. If it is and he knows it’s from you, he might be willing to listen to reason. Especially if Lord Hans is on the Sorcerer King’s side.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Geoffrey said, looking at the table. “Okay, I’ll write to him. Hopefully he answers.”

“We shall read over your letter before you send it, of course,” Ulrich added.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Geoffrey gave him a weak smile. “I do have the best interests of Kyaine at heart, after all.”

“Okay,” Stephan said. He was tired and there wasn’t anything else they could do here. “We’re finished. If anything else happens I want to know about it. Right away, Lord Ulrich, not at your convenience.”

“Of course, my king.” 

Stephan didn’t believe him. “If not, we’ll meet again tomorrow. And do this all over again. Dismissed.”

Stephan stood and left the throne room. Normally one of the three of them, often Geoffrey, walked out with him. Today none of them did, Margery and Ulrich giving each other looks and Geoffrey re-reading his cousin’s letter. He would have welcomed it. It would have distracted him. 

Because for all the important things that had happened, the only one that Stephan really cared about was the fact that Neville was in danger and there was nothing he could do about it.


	6. Not All Backroom Scheming Is in Opposition to the King

A chill wind blew over Stephan as he walked along the castle battlements. “Are you cold?” he asked Flora DiGorre, who walked alongside him, looking out at the city. 

“No,” she told him, though she had wrapped her arms about herself, covering herself in her shawl. 

Stephan nodded, looking out at Hawk’s Roost himself. It looked peaceful to him. No incidents since the curfew had been lifted. At least not that he’d been informed about. Geoffrey was sure that Ulrich would report one to him shortly, as an excuse to re-institute the curfew. 

“Are you…” Stephan trailed off. This whole walk had been horribly quiet, and he knew why, but he still wanted to try. “Are you happier? Now that you’ve got your companion back?”

Flora shrugged. “Yes. I have someone to talk to now. A friend.” 

“I’m glad,” Stephan said, smiling.

“I still hate you. You still killed my parents. Just because you did one nice thing doesn’t mean you’re not horrible.” 

Stephan looked away. “You should be kinder to me,” he muttered.

“No, I shouldn’t be.”

“My advisors…” Stephan sighed, resolved to continue. “Your brother intends to wage war against me. My advisors have suggested I kill you to avoid having anyone try to rescue you.”

Flora stopped walking and looked up at him, stricken. “You’re going to kill me?” she asked, voice girlish in a way it hadn’t been a moment ago. 

“No,” Stephan assured her quickly. “I’m not. All I’m saying is that you might hate me, but I’m not the person in Hawk’s Roost you should be the most afraid of. I’m the one who told them we weren’t going to hurt you. I’m the one who got you your companion back. I’ve done bad things to you and your family, but I’m not evil, my princess.” 

Flora looked at Stephan for a long time, the cold wind blowing her hair into her face. She pushed it aside with a hand. “I would still rather die than marry you.”

That was such a childish answer that Stephan had to take a moment and remind himself that she was a child. She acted so much older most of the time. “What if you didn’t have to do either?”

Flora frowned. “What would I need to do instead?” She’d caught on quickly. 

“Write a letter to your brother telling him not to invade the kingdom—he’d be at the head of a northern army and nobody would appreciate that even if they thought it was for a good reason. If you can convince him not to attack, and to abdicate his claim to the throne, I’ll let you go live in Dolovai with him.” 

Margery, Ulrich and Geoffrey had objected to this idea. Use her to stave off Franz, exchange her as a hostage for his peace. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would stop a war and get back the hostages Franz would be taking very soon. Geoffrey was worried that once he had Flora back, Franz would have no obstacle to waging a war, but if he formally renounced his claim, there would be no way he could regain credibility if he decided to. 

Flora was looking at her feet now. “All I’d have to do is write him a letter and you’d let me go?”

“That’s right. As long as he agreed.” 

Flora nodded once. “I’d like to think about it for a few days, please.” 

Stephan smiled, taking that as a probable yes. “Okay. You should think hard about it, talk to your companion—she’d go with you, of course.”

“Okay. I’d like to go back to my rooms, Lord Stephan.”

She never called him king, but that was okay. Stephan walked her down from the battlements and towards the castle, handing Flora off to a guard to be escorted back to her rooms. 

Inside, the castle was warmer and Stephan took off his gloves as he defrosted, handing them to a servant who appeared to take them, and his cloak. He headed for the dining room to have something to drink and warm up, feeling energized. He might have been able to stave off a war today, if all went well. 

Stephan heard Geoffrey’s voice drifting from a room nearby on the way there. “We have to do something about him.”

Stephan stopped, waiting outside the door a moment. “I don’t think now is the best time, Geoffrey.” That was Margery. “The kingdom is unstable as it is. Removing him at this point would be dangerous.”

They were talking about him, Stephan realized. Geoffrey was trying to convince her to depose Stephan. 

“Letting him stay where he is is a greater danger by miles and miles,” Geoffrey disagreed. “If someone doesn’t put a stop to the insane things he wants to do, we’re all going to die and frankly we’d all deserve it.”

“And who to replace him with?”

Stephan was about to turn to leave, to call the guards or Ulrich or…someone. He wasn’t going to let them get away with this—especially not Geoffrey, who had tried so hard to make himself seem more trustworthy than the other two. Letting him in had been a mistake. He should have, Stephan should have…

“Ulrich isn’t irreplaceable, Margery,” Geoffrey said, and Stephan halted. “For God’s sake, there are a million nobles out there just as smart as he is and only half as ambitious. Why do you think I wanted the council expanded? It’s because I don’t trust him and I don’t think the king should be trusting him either.” 

Oh. They weren’t talking about him. Stephan deflated a little, feeling ashamed of himself. He shouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion. 

“Nor do I,” Margery agreed. “But he and his people were instrumental to the revolution. And Stephan puts a lot of faith in him.”

“I don’t think you give the king enough credit, Margery. Just because Ulrich was helpful to him doesn’t mean Stephan can’t see that he’s withholding and manipulating information.”

Stephan could see that. He knew Ulrich was doing that. But a few lies weren’t reason enough to accuse him of treason.

“What I mean is that Stephan will need a very good reason to get rid of him that won’t incite rebellion from all around Hawk’s Roost. It’s bad enough the west isn’t behaving and the Sorcerer King is getting cozy with Hans, and Franz is going to march down and kill us all. We don’t need more trouble, and keeping Ulrich in place for a while longer ensures that we don’t have that trouble. Removing him for what would seem like no reason is an excellent way to destabilize the throne—again.” Margery was right. She said it confidently and with self-assurance, and Stephan knew she was right. He’d already known that anyway. 

“Margery, I appreciate that, but he’s going to kill the king and you know it. Stephan is only a tool for him and when Ulrich decides he’s not useful, we’re going to have another coup—and this time you and I will be on the wrong side of it.”

“I seem to recall you being on the wrong side of the last one. And yet here you are.”

“I’m doing what I have to do to protect my family and my kingdom, Margery.”

A snort from Margery. “How is your brother, by the way?”

“He’s fine. Stephan will be a good king if we let him. Ulrich Elderbyne won’t.”

Margery sighed. “I know. But simply because we suspect he will do something isn’t proof.” 

“Then we’ll find some proof.”

“Of something he hasn’t done?”

“Of something he has. That accident that killed the king’s father and his sister. I’d bet every coin in my coffer it wasn’t an accident.”

Stephan frowned, thinking through the implications of that. Geoffrey was saying that Ulrich had killed his father. That…that couldn’t be true. That…

“You can’t prove that.”

“I think I can, but I also don’t think I need to. Watch him, Margery. Soon he’ll tell the king that there was some incident in the city—and there probably will have been, and you’ll be able to trace it back to him. He’ll re-impose the curfew, and he’ll increase guards in the castle. He’ll advise sending troops east or north in expectation of attacks from Franz or Hans. He’ll start to suggest enemies to the king, and leave him paying attention to the borders instead of the castle. And then Stephan will have an accident too. They probably run in families.” Now it was Geoffrey’s turn to sound sure and confident. Stephan’s heart was racing. He was scared.

“It is…not an implausible sequence of events,” Margery agreed, with a long sigh. “We’ll stop it before it happens.”

“I agree. You start paying attention to who he’s talking to in the city. I’m going to call in some people from around the kingdom—not my relatives, don’t worry—who I think will support the king.” 

“This is assuming, of course, that you are trustworthy,” Margery said, guarded.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m trustworthy, or if you are,” Geoffrey snapped. “Stephan getting deposed is bad for me and it’s bad for you and it’s good for Ulrich. Even if we don’t trust each other, that’s reason enough to keep him on the throne.” 

“I agree.” 

Stephan should have gone in the room. They started to wrap up, planning to meet again in a few days. Stephan should have gone inside, confronted them, insisted on being part of their plans, on knowing all that they knew, on them not having meetings behind his back. 

But he didn’t. Stephan was scared, and instead of going inside he retreated, going for the dining room and not eating a single bite, sitting there and thinking about Ulrich Elderbyne and all that he’d done for Stephan.


	7. For a King, all Truths Are Sharp-Edged

Stephan gripped Geoffrey’s hips hard as he sped up his thrusts, the cum already inside Geoffrey making him able to faster, and drive harder into Geoffrey, who was there on the bed panting, asking him for more. “Come on, Stephan, you can go harder…you can…harder…”

So harder Stephan did, pounding Geoffrey as hard as he could, keeping it up for a good few minutes as sweat coated him, before he finally came inside Geoffrey with a grunt, squeezing his eyes shut as he did. When he was done, Stephan pulled out and lay on his back, letting Geoffrey collapse onto his belly beside him. 

“You’re thinking,” Geoffrey said, reaching over and tapping Stephan’s nipple. 

“What?”

“You’re looking up at the ceiling and thinking.” 

Stephan frowned. He had been. “Don’t say that like it’s a surprise. I’m not an idiot.”

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I said or what I meant.” 

Stephan blushed, looking away. “It’s what it sounded like.” 

“I just meant that clearly I’m not doing a very good job if you’re transitioning from fucking me to brooding that quickly,” Geoffrey told him with a smile. “Do you want me to find someone else to be your bed warmer?”

“No,” Stephan said, shaking his head. He liked Geoffrey. “I…I’m just worried.”

“About Neville.”

Yes, but as much as Stephan was worried about that, there were other things. “About a lot of things.”

“Good,” Geoffrey said, moving closer to Stephan. 

“Good?”

“Seems to me that good kings worry about a lot of things. There are a lot of things to worry about, after all.” 

“Yeah.” Stephan sighed. “There are.” 

“Do you want to talk about any of them?” Geoffrey asked, getting up on one elbow and looking at Stephan. 

“No,” Stephan said. He did want to talk about them, but not with Geoffrey. He wanted to talk with Neville, but Neville wasn’t here. And that meant he had nobody to talk to. Except Geoffrey, the only person who’d consistently tried to help him. “Yes,” he said a second later, changing his mind. He needed someone. “I heard you and Margery talking the other day.” 

Margery or Ulrich would have lied, said they didn’t know what he was talking about. Geoffrey closed his eyes, sighing. “Fuck. Sorry. That’s not how I wanted you to find out. The only reason I kept it a secret, Stephan, is because I don’t have any proof and I don’t want Ulrich knowing I’m looking at him that hard.”

“But you do think he’ll betray me someday,” Stephan said quietly. 

“No,” Geoffrey said, putting a hand on Stephan’s elbow. “I don’t think he can betray you, my king. He was never on your side to begin with.” 

“Do…you really think he killed my sister and father?” Stephan asked. His heart was beating so fast—he didn’t want to hear the answer to this.

Geoffrey was quiet, then he sighed, long and low. “Yes. But it’s just a suspicion, Stephan. I can’t prove it. I’ll never be able to prove it unless he admits to it. I don’t want you doing anything based on me saying that; it’s a baseless accusation.” 

Stephan nodded. “Okay.” He sighed. “Okay. I won’t. But I’m going to be keeping an eye on Ulrich. And I want proof of something, Geoffrey. You said he’ll make up something in the city to re-impose the curfew.”

“And at the same time he’ll try to distract you with something somewhere else, yes,” Geoffrey agreed. “Listen, this isn’t something you need to worry about.”

“I think it is.”

“It’s not. Nobles are going to scheme against you. You should know about it. But you have me and Margery to deal with it.”

“And if you and Margery decide to betray me?”

Geoffrey smiled. “That’s why you need other people on your council besides us, isn’t it? You need people who hate each other just as much as they don’t like you. So they’ll always have reason to neutralize each other. And hopefully get something done in the meantime.” 

Apparently just having people who were loyal to him wasn’t an option. Just having people who liked him wasn’t. “Did you mean what you said?” Stephan asked, thinking on that last part. “About me being a good king?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey said. “I did. I think you’ll be good at it if you can stop doing damage control and actually start ruling.”

That made Stephan feel a little better. If only he could stop doing damage control, then. “What do you think is the first thing I should try to do when that happens?”

“No,” Geoffrey said, shaking his head. “Not doing that. You’re the king, I’m not going to tell you what you should focus on. I’ll suggest things as your advisor, but you’re the ruler, you should be ruling.”

Stephan laughed, turning on his side and regarding Geoffrey. “Okay. Be that way. I want to start a program. To help beggars find employment.”

Geoffrey cocked his head. “How does that work?”

“Train them do something. Get them apprenticeships or positions as labourers or servants. Take into account infirmities that they might have and find work that’s suited to their abilities. Lots of people don’t work and it’s not because they don’t want to, it’s because they can’t find something that accommodates the abilities that they have.” This was something Stephan had thought a lot about.

“See,” Geoffrey said, tone teasing but eyes serious. “That’s a really good idea. We should do that.”

Stephan looked down, biting his lip. “The first time I mentioned it…”

“They told you it was a bad idea?”

Stephan nodded, still remembering that conversation. “It was before I was king. Ulrich told me it wouldn’t work. Margery said nobody would be willing to take on beggars as apprentices and the crown can’t afford to pay for it anyway.” 

“Hm,” Geoffrey said. He licked his lips. “What did Neville say?”

Stephan frowned. “He said it was a good idea. But that’s his job, he has to say that.”

“No,” Geoffrey said, shaking his head. “No, he doesn’t. It’s his job to tell you when you’re wrong, not agree with you all the time, Stephan. Do you know—right after you were coronated. I was so pissed off. I was going to fund rebellions, hire assassins, help Isabella DeThane if I could find her. I was going to do everything I could to get you off the throne. Do you know what my companion Javier said?”

“What?” Stephan asked, still frowning. Why would Geoffrey tell him that?

“He said that was stupid, that it wasn’t good for me, Giacomo or the kingdom, and that my father would hate it if he were alive to see it.” Geoffrey shrugged. “And you know? He was fucking right. I was…sad because my dad had died. And I wasn’t thinking. And he made me start thinking again, about what the right thing to do was, not the easy thing. And if Neville were here, I think he’d tell you the same thing. Do the right thing, not the easy thing.”

Stephan sighed, nodding again. “Yeah,” he said, looking at the ceiling again. “Hey. I’ve been wondering about something.”

“What about?”

“Your brother.”

“Giacomo? What about him?”

Stephan wasn’t sure how to put this. “Why do Ulrich and Margery always make remarks about him when they’re mad at you?” He’d noticed it a bunch of times lately. “I thought they were threats at first, but they’re always saying they’re worried about him, or…”

Geoffrey was blushing a little. “They’re just repeating rumours, that’s all.” 

“Rumours?” Stephan had never heard any rumours about Geoffrey’s brother. He didn’t know anything about Giacomo DiSheere.

Geoffrey shrugged. “There have been rumours for a while now that Giacomo and I are fucking.” 

It was Stephan’s turn to blush. “That’s terrible. Why would anyone spread something like that about you two?” Stephan understood that people liked to slander nobility, but that was a bit beyond the pale. 

Geoffrey chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe because we are.” 

Stephan blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“It’s not what it sounds like. I’m not hurting him or anything like that. We love each other.” 

“I…see.” Stephan did not. 

“If you’d like I can introduce you to him,” Geoffrey offered. “You can talk to him and see for yourself if you’re worried about it.” 

“Um…” Stephan wasn’t sure what to think. Geoffrey didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d hurt his brother. And it was obvious from everything he did that he loved Giacomo. But maybe he loved him too much. “I’ll think about it.”

Geoffrey snickered, getting up and crawling on top of Stephan, turning him back on his back. “You know, in the Fury Plateau, they have this old-fashioned ritual, from before the Catechism came in.” 

“What ritual?” Stephan asked, not following. 

“When you meet somebody you want to court, you give them a knife,” Geoffrey said, miming stabbing Stephan. 

“Why?” 

“So they can protect themselves from you if they need to. Then, if the courtship is going well, they give the knife back to you.” 

“So…you can protect yourself from them instead?” Stephan asked. 

Geoffrey nodded. “And to show that they don’t think they need to be protected from you anymore. In the Plateau, returning the knife is a marriage proposal.” 

“But what if you don’t want to marry them?” Stephan asked.

A shrug. “I guess you stab them.” Geoffrey’s weight was oddly comforting on Stephan’s midsection. “Then, at the very end of the courtship, you know what you do?”

“Give the knife back again?” It seemed in keeping. 

“You try. And the other person either takes it and gets rid of it, or takes it and places it somewhere visible where either party can get it if they need it. Either one completes the ritual and then those two people are married. Refusing the knife calls off the engagement, and refusing to give the knife again is a refusal of the proposal. But otherwise that’s it, that’s the entire marriage ritual for people in the Fury Plateau.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a wedding,” Stephan said, skeptical. 

“Weddings are more of a Catechism thing. Don’t get me wrong, nobody really does that anymore, from what I hear. I’ve just been thinking about the Plateau lately since we got that letter and I remember learning about that as a kid,” Geoffrey said. 

Stephan looked up at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s cool?” Geoffrey asked. “I just think it’s really something, the idea that a relationship is…dangerous. If you care about someone, that’s dangerous. And you have to be willing to let yourself be in danger. Because that’s the only way to trust someone. You hand a knife back and forth and nobody gets stabbed. And now you trust each other. What would you do if I gave you a knife, my king?”

Stephan frowned, colour rising in his face. “I don’t want…”

“Not as a sign of courtship, forget that part. What would you do?”

Stephan was still trying to figure out what this was about. “I…I’d keep it.” He realized that as he said. He didn’t trust Geoffrey enough to put his life in Geoffrey’s hands.

Geoffrey smiled. “Good. You should.”

“What does this have to do with you and Giacomo?”

“Nothing,” Geoffrey said, leaning down until he was closer to Stephan. “It’s about you and me.”

“You’re…telling me not to trust you,” Stephan said, feeling funny with how close Geoffrey is.

“I’m telling you,” Geoffrey corrected, “that I trust you. I trust you to make good decisions, and I trust you not to make silly judgements about me because of what I do in my personal time, and I trust you to listen to the right people—even when the right people aren’t me.” 

“Why would you trust me to do all those things?” Stephan asked in a whisper, feeling heavy. 

“Because you’re the king,” Geoffrey said. “And you’re going to be good at it if I have to get rid of every single person holding you back myself.” 

“Geoffrey…”

“Shh…” Geoffrey kissed him, which Stephan had specifically told him not to do. “You’re hard and I want to see if I can do a better job than last time. Get you to stop thinking for a few minutes at least.”

So Geoffrey reached back and grabbed Stephan, sliding down onto Stephan’s cock, and for a few minutes at least, he made Stephan forget about the knife he’d just been handed.


	8. Kings Should Know How to Handle Many Problems at Once

“I’ve had no word yet from Henry,” Geoffrey told Stephan at the council meeting. “I’ll let you know if that changes.” 

Stephan nodded. “Okay. Maybe he won’t bother answering. But I don’t want to give him too much longer—if the Sorcerer King does have Hans out there, we have to do something about it soon. Another week, and then we’re considering military options.” 

“Sure,” Geoffrey said, nodding. “I wonder if we need to do that—there’s that northern coalition to take him down, the Sorcerer King, I mean. It might be worthwhile to let them do it, maybe lend them some help.” 

“I don’t trust a coalition of northerners,” Stephan muttered. “Not one with Ronaldo Harrow in it.” 

“He’s a court wizard.” 

“To House DiGorre. To Franz. For God’s sake, he was friends with Francesca for thirty years.” 

“The king is right,” Ulrich said. “We can’t assume he has our best interests in mind. If the new representative ever gets here, we can perhaps work something else out.” 

“It is my understanding that someone should be arriving very soon,” Margery said. “Possibly even tomorrow.” She nodded when Stephan looked at her. “I’ll notify you as soon as they arrive, of course, my king.” 

“Thank you, Margery,” Stephan said, nodding at her. “Okay.” He was trying to take a more proactive role in these meetings, stop letting Margery—and especially Ulrich—determine the pace of the agenda. “I understand that you’ve invited a bunch of nobles to this council without telling me, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey spread his hands. “Not to the council. Just to Hawk’s Roost. It’s entirely up to you what to do with them.” 

“But you want me to put them on the council,” Stephan pressed. He wasn’t going to give Geoffrey a pass just because he liked him. 

“I do. But what I want isn’t important. And if you do decide that, you should meet them first, and they should also meet Lord Ulrich and Lady Margery, to make sure we can all play nicely together.” 

“We will need to ascertain their loyalties,” Ulrich agreed, obviously displeased. “I find it unlikely that they’ll have any love for you.” 

“Nobody loves the king, Ulrich, they only obey him.” Stephan smiled at the face Ulrich made. “Speaking of which, what’s the temperament of the city?”

Ulrich visibly hesitated. “There have been some…minor incidents, my king. Nothing too serious, but…”

“Describe them.” 

“Some city guards have been harassed, and people have been heard shouting ‘murderer’ at the castle gates. They are quickly removed, of course. Someone was arrested after threatening to break into the castle and disembowel you. A man decapitated another man and shouted that you were next as he was taken away.” 

Stephan frowned. “That’s…”

“Hawk’s Roost is a big city,” Geoffrey cut in. “One murder and one threat of violence in all this time is pretty good.” 

Stephan nodded. That wasn’t incorrect, now that Geoffrey put it like that. “It doesn’t sound that bad. There are always going to be people who don’t like me, Ulrich.” 

“I agree,” Ulrich said, glancing at Geoffrey. “I do worry that the protests at the gates especially represent a pattern.” 

“If you’re about to say we should reinstate the curfew…”

“No, my king,” Ulrich said, smiling. “I know that you are opposed to that idea without due cause. Only that we should be vigilant, is all.” 

Stephan couldn’t argue with that. “Fair enough. Keep an eye on the situation and if it escalates, let me know.” 

“I shall, my king.” 

Ulrich sounded so calm, like he wasn’t up to anything at all. Geoffrey had been so sure he’d try to reinstate the curfew. Maybe he was wrong after all. “What about outside the city? Has the west settled down?”

“Not exactly, but I don’t think there’s anything more we can do at the moment. I think it would be unwise to send more soldiers,” Ulrich said. “Especially when the north represents a more immediate threat.” 

“You think we should be shoring up our defences there?”

“I think it can’t hurt, at least until we know what the ven Sanctes intend.”

“He’s not wrong,” Margery agreed. “It would be foolish to ignore the possibility that we’re going to be attacked.”

Stephan nodded. He hadn’t heard a word from Neville or Horace. “You’re right. I don’t want to do anything drastic, but we should prepare—I want to make sure that the capital especially is properly defended.” Francesca hadn’t done that and it had killed her. 

“That’s wise,” Geoffrey said. He sounded unhappy. 

“The people won’t like it,” Margery muttered. “Gearing up for war again after we just got back to normal.” 

“The people will survive,” Ulrich said simply. 

Unless it made them more upset, caused more incidents and gave Ulrich reason to take more control, Stephan thought to himself. But it had been his idea, not Ulrich’s, so it could hardly be part of some plot. “I’m sure they’ll understand.” 

“Maybe,” Geoffrey muttered. “Maybe not. We should think about doing something to distract them.” 

“From siege engines and soldiers?” Ulrich asked, with an arched eyebrow. “What do you suggest, Geoffrey?”

“I don’t know, just…something. To make it seem like the world isn’t all bad and that we have things in hand.” 

“Do we have things in hand?” Stephan asked. Or were they still doing damage control?

“That doesn’t matter. The point is to make people think they do. People have confidence in kings who are in control.” 

That made sense, Stephan decided. “What do you propose?”

“I don’t know,” Geoffrey admitted, sheepish. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” 

“What about a festival?” Margery asked. “A banquet for the nobility, but with ample food provided for the peasants as well. Give them a reason to eat and drink. It might solve more than one problem at a time.” 

“The people might be less inclined to be disobedient,” Ulrich mused, finishing Margery’s thought. 

“And you could use it to meet all these new nobles in an organic way,” Geoffrey added. “I like it, Margery. As long as we have decent security so nobody ends up assassinated. Things like this are ideal for that.” 

“We’ll make sure it’s safe, obviously,” Margery said, nodding. 

“Okay.” Stephan smiled. He liked this idea. Maybe it really would solve some of his many problems. “Let’s do it. Get the planning underway immediately.” 

“Yes, my king.” 

And the meeting adjourned, and Stephan, for once, felt like he was actually on top of what was happening, instead of getting buried underneath it. 

Maybe this was what being a proper king felt like.


	9. It's Easier than it Seems for Kings to Make Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of news that I'm going to share on all my stories is that with Tumblr's new adult content policy, I've decided not to continue posting the story there any longer. If you have a burning desire to interact with me on social media, there's a series [Discord](https://discordapp.com/invite/YaMctWq) server for chatting with me and other readers, my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HBtUaSPenguin?lang=en) if you only want me in bite-sized chunks, and my [new blog](https://antagonizedpenguin.wordpress.com/) if you want an alternate way to read the chapters. And of course I'll still be posting here first and always! Thanks for all your support! 
> 
> With that said, here's Stephan holding court.

The wizard sent by the Circle was a squirrely little man named Jorge who seemed surprised that they weren’t all impressed enough at the fact he was a wizard to overlook how long it had taken him to get here. 

“My deepest apologies if my tardiness caused offence, my king. Yours is a very large nation; it takes some time to cross...”

“It’s not that big, Master Jorge,” Stephan told him from the throne. “But nonetheless I’m pleased that you’ve finally managed to find Hawk’s Roost. The roads do still lead here, don’t they?” Geoffrey had made a joke about that this morning. 

Jorge cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes, my king, they do. I apologize again. But I am here now and am looking forward to serving as your court wizard…”

“And who told you that you would be doing that?” Ulrich interrupted. 

“Excuse me, my lord? I thought…”

“Court wizard is a noble title given to someone the crown deems trustworthy and loyal. Perhaps once you have proven that you are both of those things, the king will be willing to consider you for the position. Until then you remain an ordinary wizard,” Ulrich told him. 

“Lord Ulrich is correct,” Stephan said, leaning forward. “You will be given a spot on my council for now as is customary, but we’ll discuss your formal position later. In the meantime, welcome to the capital. You’ll be given rooms in the castle to live and study in, and for your apprentice too.” His apprentice was a young girl who seemed angry about something, standing a few feet behind him. 

“Th-thank you, my king,” Jorge said, glancing around the throne room. Stephan was holding court today, and the wizard was one of the last in a line of people who’d petitioned him for something or other. 

Stephan nodded as regally as he could. “Who else has an issue to bring to the crown?”

A messenger snuck into the room as he said that, moving along the back wall. Stephan tried not to watch him. A minor noble from just north of the capital appeared to complain that his people hadn’t stored enough grain in the autumn because the revolution had distracted them all. The messenger was speaking with Margery, who he’d met first, handing her a note. 

Stephan agreed to sell some of the crown’s stocked grain to the noble’s lands at a reduced price while Margery whispered to Ulrich. “Next,” Stephan called, trying not to watch them too closely. 

There was quiet in the throne room, so Stephan prepared to dismiss them all. “I have a petition,” a girl’s voice said. Flora DiGorre stepped out into the aisle, dressed boldly in the green of her house. 

“Come forward, then, Lady Flora,” Stephan said. She’d never spoken in court before—Stephan didn’t think she’d spoken publicly since the revolution. Margery and Ulrich had stopped talking to exchange looks, and as Flora gathered herself, Geoffrey edged over to join them with a glance into the crowd in the direction of his brother, who was in the third row. “What can the crown do for you?”

Flora took a breath, meeting Stephan’s eye. “The crown can ratify the agreement it made with me in public.”

Stephan frowned. “Excuse me?”

Flora pulled a scroll out of her sleeve and showed it to Stephan. “I’ve written my brother Franz a letter asking that he stop any hostilities against you and remain in exile in Dolovai peacefully.” 

“You have?” Stephan stood, trying not to smile too broadly. “Thank you, Flora. I appreciate that.”

Flora shook her head. “I won’t send it until you repeat your agreement with me in front of everyone, Stephan. If it works and Franz backs down, you’ll annul our marriage contract and let me leave Hawk’s Roost to peacefully join my brother in exile in the north.”

She sounded so much older than she was. How had an eight-year-old girl gained so much wisdom? The court was muttering, and Ulrich and Margery were whispering at Geoffrey urgently. 

Stephan nodded. “I…”

“My king,” Geoffrey interrupted.

Stephan raised a hand, cutting him off. “Of course I agree to those terms, Lady Flora. You have the crown’s word.” 

The court was muttering again, talking to each other. Flora smiled, bowing her head. “Thank you, my king. I’ll send the letter right away if I may be excused.” 

“Of course,” Stephan said, nodding as he sat back down. Flora turned and left. “Are there any other petitioners?”

There were none, so Stephan dismissed the court. As everyone was leaving, Geoffrey joined him at the throne, leaning down. “I wish you’d waited before doing that,” Geoffrey muttered.

“I know,” Stephan said. “You don’t approve. But it’s a good idea.” 

Geoffrey sighed. “I know—but this message came from Three Hills, and it doesn’t have your house’s crest on it.” He handed Stephan the roll of paper, which was sealed but without a crest. “It’s not from Horace—we all think it’s probably from Neville.” 

Stephan’s breath caught and he took the paper, breaking the seal. “Careful,” Geoffrey said. “Until everyone’s gone, try not to react too obviously.” 

Stephan nodded, barely noticing that Ulrich and Margery had come closer as well. Taking a breath and steeling his face into a neutral expression, he unrolled the letter. 

_My king,_ the letter read, in Neville’s hand. _Apologies for the delay in writing. We have been met with some resistance to your plan; the ven Sanctes are reluctant to deal with Horace and I. I’m not sure yet how much of it because they like Franz and how much of it is because they see political gain in defying us._

 _Stephan, Cordelia DeThane is here with Donovan DiGorre. No sign of Isabella or any of her family, no sign of Maria either. They’re housing her in the castle, a guest. Horace and I are being watched. I’m not done negotiating, but I want you to be prepared for the possibility that they’re going to back Franz into doing something stupid._

_If they do, they’ll probably try to keep me here or even kill me. But don’t worry, I have it in hand and you have Flora as collateral. Just focus on ruling, and I’ll write again soon._

Stephan looked up from the letter, seeing how many of the nobles were still filing out. Most of them were gone. Some were still casting glances up at him. He swallowed, perspiring. “Cordelia and Donovan are with Franz and Neville thinks the ven Sanctes are going to use Franz to declare war.” 

All three of them looked at each other over Stephan’s head. None of them said anything. 

“We can’t send Flora back,” Margery said quietly. 

“We’ll have to if Franz doesn’t declare war,” Geoffrey told Margery. “The king just promised to in front of the whole court.” 

“We need her as collateral,” Ulrich stressed. “If Cordelia is up north, Horace and Neville are in danger. Neville is the one who killed Francesca and Dante—if she decides to seek revenge…”

Stephan put his hand on his forehead, wiping it. “Neville’s in danger,” he whispered. Cordelia was going to kill him. She was going to convince Franz to kill him. He was going go die. And the only thing that would stop that was that Franz knew he had Flora. “I shouldn’t have let Flora send that letter.” A mistake, they’d been right. It hadn’t been the right thing to do. 

“We can intercept it,” Geoffrey said, looking at Ulrich. “Shoot down the bird after it leaves the castle.” 

Margery nodded. “I’ll see to it, my king.” 

Stephan swallowed spit, wishing he could think straight. “Okay. I want to…we have to…”

“We should solidify our forces at the border,” Ulrich said, hand on the throne. “And contact some people up north, see if we can get a better read on what’s happening in Three Hills. You should write back to Neville, and send a letter to Horace as well. Don’t write to the northern king, that will make him think you’re desperate. Tell Horace to be careful and tell Neville to keep an eye on Horace.” 

Stephan nodded, listening. It was good advice. It was comforting. “Okay. Yes. Let’s do that. Get me a pen and paper, I’ll write back now.” 

“Right away, my king,” Ulrich said. 

“I’ll contact your military advisors while you do that,” Geoffrey offered. 

Stephan nodded again. “Okay. Thank you, everyone. Let’s go. Quickly.” 

There was no reason to move quickly, but Stephan felt like he needed to move quickly. He felt like he needed to move, to do something. Soon. He felt like everything was about to fall apart, and he didn’t know how to fix it. 

He didn’t know what to do.


	10. Bad News Is Most News When You're A King, But It Doesn't Have to Stay Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, the promised offscreen incest is made pretty obvious in this chapter. Nothing incestuous happens except for verbal confirmation, but be warned if that's not your thing.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Geoffrey asked, looking at the food Stephan had left behind. “I know you didn’t eat much at dinner without even asking.” 

Stephan glared at Geoffrey, but only for a second. “Stop acting like I’m starving myself. I don’t have much of an appetite.” 

Geoffrey chuckled, sitting down beside Stephan. “I know. But you still need to keep healthy. The last thing you need is to get sick or something.” 

Stephan sighed. “You’re not my mother.” 

“No, but I am your subject and I’m worried about my king. Are you sleeping enough?”

“Yes,” Stephan said. He was sleeping too much, if anything. And dreaming about Neville. 

“Good,” Geoffrey said, reaching over and patting Stephan’s shoulder. “You’re really tense. Can I rub your back for you?”

Stephan sighed. “I guess.” It would make Geoffrey feel like he was helping and make him stop bothering Stephan, so it was fine by him. 

“Lay on the bed and take your shirt off?” Geoffrey asked, and Stephan nodded and went to do that. He lay on his stomach and Geoffrey got on top of him, straddling Stephan’s waist and starting with Stephan’s shoulders. “You’re way too tense,” he muttered.

“I wonder why,” Stephan grumbled. 

Geoffrey clucked his tongue. “I know, but you can’t let the stress get to you. You still need to be able to make good decisions even with all this happening.” 

“I know that,” Stephan said. “It’s not like I’m trying to be a bad king, Geoffrey.” 

“I never said you were.” Geoffrey rubbed a little harder, in between Stephan’s shoulder blades. “I just think that as hard as it is, you need to be a little more conscientious not to get distracted. Ulrich is doing exactly what I said he’d do.” 

“I know,” Stephan murmured, though he hadn’t noticed that at the time. Geoffrey saying it made him realize it was true, though. He’d put Stephan’s attention elsewhere, moved troops around, all of it, except for one thing. “He didn’t reinstate the curfew.”

“Because he didn’t need to. That was always only a preliminary step to controlling people,” Geoffrey explained. “Now he’s got another way.”

“Right,” Stephan said, breathing a little easier. The back rub was really helping, actually. He felt a lot better already. “Do you still think he’ll try to kill me?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey said, moving his hands lower. “The banquet would be a good cover—don’t eat or drink anything that someone hasn’t tested.”

Stephan sighed. “I should just arrest him.” 

“You could, but you’d have to explain to his friends and family why you did.” 

“I know, I know.” Stephan was the king, he shouldn’t have to explain himself. He sighed.

“Take this evening not to think about it, okay?” Geoffrey asked. “No more work.”

Stephan looked over his shoulder at Geoffrey. He was smiling softly, hair falling in his eyes. He sighed again. “Okay.” 

“Hm. Any other tension you’d like my help relieving?” Geoffrey asked. “Since I’m here and all.” 

Stephan snorted. “Fine. I’m tired, though. I don’t want to get up.” 

Geoffrey got off him, patted Stephan’s back. “Roll over, take your pants off. I’ll go for a ride.” 

Stephan had been about to suggest that Geoffrey top him, but that worked too. He rolled onto his back—not nearly as tight as it had been—and unlaced his pants—much tighter than they had been. Geoffrey came back as he was finished pushing them down, shirt off and a bottle of oil in hand. He smiled as Stephan untied his loincloth, took off his own pants, and climbed back on top of him. “Not wearing a loincloth has really been working for me,” he commented, opening the bottle. 

“It’s a good look for you,” Stephan admitted. “Almost as good as this one.”

Geoffrey gave a grin, pouring oil directly onto Stephan’s cock. “I’d have a harder time pulling this look off in court. I have to confess I have thought about it on occasion. Maybe one day next time I’m at home.” 

“Then I’d miss it,” Stephan laughed. 

“You could come visit. Tour the eastern territories. Stay at my manor. Leave your wardrobe behind.” 

“Traumatize your servants?”

“I daresay they’ve seen a cock or two in the past,” Geoffrey said, positioning himself over Stephan and moving down with a grunt. “They’ll…survive.” 

Stephan shuddered as he entered Geoffrey, closing his eyes and nodding. “I like that,” he said, pressed into the mattress. He already felt less tense than he had, and Geoffrey hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Me too,” Geoffrey said, stroking Stephan’s chest. “You know I was never that into bottoming until I met you?”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I mean I…ah, I do it for Javier and stuff,” Geoffrey said. “Like you do. But it’s not my favourite.” The air was filled with his breathing for a second, as he moved back and forth on Stephan. “But I look forward to it with you, weird as that sounds. I like having you inside me. Oh, God, that sounds so tacky, I can’t believe I said that out loud.” 

Stephan couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s…ng…nice to hear, though,” he said. “I like being inside you too…”

“Good, because I’m keeping you here for a while,” Geoffrey panted. 

And he did. It was a good half hour before Stephan came, and even when he did, Geoffrey didn’t, and kept moving. “I know you can go again,” he teased.

Stephan nodded, sweaty but happy. “Yeah…keep going…”

So Geoffrey did, for a minute or so at least, before a click distracted Stephan. He recognized that click, it was the sound of…

It wasn’t until the door shut that he fully placed it, and Stephan opened his eyes, looked over at the door. Of all people, Giacomo DiSheere was standing there, a roll of paper in his hand. “What…”

“Giacomo?” Geoffrey asked, pausing in fucking himself onto Stephan, but not pulling off or making any effort to cover himself, his throbbing erection leaking onto Stephan’s belly. “What are you doing here?”

“And how did you get in?” Stephan demanded, partially rising onto his elbows.

Giacomo shrugged. He looked like Geoffrey, only slightly younger and with straighter hair. “I told the guards I had an important message for the king and they believed me. I’m cute, so everyone believes me when I look upset.” 

Stephan just stared at him. Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “And what do you actually want?”

“To deliver this important message to the king?” Giacomo said, holding out a roll of paper. “You said to bring it to you as soon as it came in, Geoff, even if you were locked up discussing matters of national importance with the king. That’s what you said.” It was obvious that he was entirely unperturbed by seeing them in this state. But then, every younger sibling walked in on their older siblings with their companions a few times. Plus, if he and Geoffrey really were fucking, it probably wasn’t anything new to him. 

Geoffrey frowned, took the note. “It’s going to be from Henry,” he told Stephan. “Finally.”

“What does it say?” Stephan asked, even though Geoffrey hadn’t opened the letter yet. 

“Hold on,” Geoffrey said, unrolling it. He frowned, mouthing something. “I need a second to read this properly, Henry’s handwriting is the only thing that needs more work than my Chez’n. Much as I don’t want to, I’m going to get up, my king.”

“S-sure,” Stephan groaned, as Geoffrey did just that, getting off the bed and looking down at the letter without concern for the cum running down his legs. 

“I can take his place if you want,” Giacomo offered, hands on the bed, grinning at Stephan. 

“E-excuse me?”

“On your dick and all. I’m better at it than Geoff is because he never lets me top.”

Geoffrey huffed. “The king isn’t sure what he thinks about us, Giacomo, please don’t make it sound like I’m raping you.” 

“Oh, he’s not,” Giacomo assured Stephan, who was still reeling just a little. “Really you’d have to say I was raping him if anything, half the time lately he’s too tired for me after you’re done with him but I usually bug him until he does it anyway.” 

“Giacomo, shut up.” 

Giacomo gave the toothy grin of a little brother who knew how to embarrass his big brother. “Like the other night, he came home halfway to morning and passed out in his bed, and I…”

“Stephan,” Geoffrey said, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “Listen to this.” 

Stephan sat, with a smile at Giacomo. “I’m listening.” 

“‘Geoffrey, good to hear from you. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m okay too. Sorry about Uncle Gerhard. Don’t worry about me. You know you can trust me to handle the Sorcerer King—he’s not as bad as he seems. We’re willing to talk to keep Kyaine out of the Plateau. I convinced him to let Hans go as a gesture of good belief.’ Sorry, ‘good faith. He’s on his way back to Hawk’s Roost as I write this. Come visit us in Ech’kent. We’ll catch up and negotiate. Love, Henry.’” Geoffrey looked up at Stephan, drawn.

Stephan frowned, turning that over in his mind. “A gesture of good faith?”

“It’s an attack,” Geoffrey said. “I’m sure of it.” 

“Why?”

“Because he’s asking me to leave the city,” Geoffrey explained. “We’re family—he doesn’t want me to get hurt. The Sorcerer King is going to support Hans in attacking you.”

“And taking the throne back for House DiGorre,” Stephan muttered.

“Or for himself,” Giacomo corrected. “Flora DiGorre is too young to be queen. If Lord Hans sets it up that he can rule as her regent…”

“Fuck,” Stephan sighed, putting his face in his hand for a moment, all his tension coming back. “This is the last thing we needed right now.” 

“I’m not so sure,” Geoffrey said, frowning at the letter with a shake of his head. “It could be good.” 

“Good?” Stephan looked up at him, incredulous. “How could this be good, Geoffrey?”

“Because with an army bearing down on the city, the last thing we need is chaos. Ulrich would have to be a complete dumbass to try and do anything to you right now—he’d be ensuring that the city fell and all of us with it.” A smile came to Geoffrey’s face as he spoke. “He has to support you for the next little while, Stephan. This buys us time.”

Stephan considered that slowly, deciding if Geoffrey was right. It made sense, he decided, and he nodded. “Okay, good. I’ll summon him and Margery here…”

“No,” Geoffrey said, hand on Stephan’s knee. “Let’s tell them in the morning. I think that we should stay here and plan out how we’re going to approach this now, so that nobody can try and play it to anyone’s advantage but yours tomorrow.”

“Right. Okay.” Stephan smiled. “I guess we should get dressed.” 

“Aw,” Giacomo said. “I was hoping I could get undressed.”

“Maybe next time,” Stephan told him. 

“Go home, Giacomo,” Geoffrey said, looking for his pants.

“No way.” Giacomo stood, arms crossed. “I’m staying here. I can help. I’m smarter than you, remember?”

Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “As long as the king doesn’t object.” 

“It’s fine,” Stephan said. Giacomo did seem pretty bright. “It’s not like he’s in the way.” 

“See?”

“Fine,” Geoffrey sighed. “I’ll get the servants to bring some coffee. And juice.” 

“Hey!”

Stephan smiled, pulling his shirt back on. Maybe it was a bit weird, but being here half dressed with the two brothers, he felt better prepared for what was coming than he ever had in the throne room with his advisers.


	11. Everyone Always Wants Something in Exchange for Kindness, Especially When You're the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

“We’ve sent forces out to meet Hans before he gets anywhere near Hawk’s Roost,” Ulrich said, holding himself stiffly. “By reports he shouldn’t have too many soldiers with him, so unless he picks more up on the way, I don’t see stopping him being hard.” 

“He won’t pick any more up,” Geoffrey said, sounding certain. “He has to march through my territory and all of my cousins’ and friends’ before he can get here. I’ve already had messages sent to them to make sure he doesn’t proceed.” 

“Would that we had seen those messages before they went out, however,” Ulrich grumbled. 

Margery nodded. “I’m inclined to agree, given the circumstances, Geoffrey.” 

“I saw them,” Stephan said, cutting off that line of conversation. “I was there when Geoffrey wrote them.” They’d said exactly what Geoffrey had said they said. He ignored the way that Margery and Ulrich looked at each other, then at Geoffrey. “I want the capital defended just in case.” 

“My king, Hans is never going to get within striking distance of…”

“I depopulated defences around the capital before usurping Francesca,” Stephan interrupted, holding Ulrich’s stare. “I happen to know that if Hawk’s Roost is undefended, it’s not that hard to conquer.”

“If,” Ulrich reminded him, “you have someone on the inside to open the gates for you.” 

“Are we sure that Hans doesn’t?”

Ulrich was quiet at that, face going just slightly red. Margery spoke. “My king, if you’re suggesting that there’s a traitor in this room…”

Jorge the wizard, who hadn’t said a single word this entire meeting, just sitting there watching them all talk like his head was spinning, suddenly spoke up. “I take umbrage at the assumption that…”

“Of course I’m not,” Stephan said. “I trust all of you—yes, including Geoffrey, stop looking at him like that—but that doesn’t mean that everyone in the city is loyal to me. It doesn’t mean everyone in the castle is. Lots of people still aren’t happy about me—and Hans is Dante DiGorre’s brother. They’ll see it as an improvement.” 

“And we’re hosting a banquet soon,” Geoffrey reminded Margery as Jorge settled back into an embarrassed silence. They were all just kind of ignoring the wizard. “We invited all our friends, if you recall. And you know what they say about friends.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t.” 

“They’re the only ones who can betray you,” Geoffrey said, joking gone from his tone. 

“In any case,” Stephan said, looking at Geoffrey himself now. “I want the capital defended. Hans has support from the Sorcerer King, and Geoffrey’s cousin seems pretty confident that he’ll be getting to the city—enough to tell Geoffrey about it.” 

“He may have assumed Geoffrey wouldn’t tell you,” Ulrich pointed out. “But very well. I will have troops recalled to defend the city—it will mean taking them out of the west.” 

“That’s fine,” Stephan said. “The piracy issue hasn’t been a problem lately, and we’re not going to find Isabella DeThane. If the western lords want to rebel, we’ll deal with that after Hans isn’t bearing down on us.” 

“I doubt they will,” Geoffrey said cautiously. “But we can talk to them at the banquet as well. And Isabella’s not in the west anymore. I’m sorry, but we’d have found her by now—if she got to Bright Harbour, and that’s assuming she did, she’d have left it ages ago. If she’s smart, she’s in Pelican Bay or White Cape.” 

“I’m sure we’d have heard,” Margery protested. “She’d have no need to hide up there, and she’ll have Maria’s baby with her. Were I her, I’d announce to the world that I had Francesca’s heir and use it to rally an army against the king.” 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Geoffrey said. “Because you’re not a lunatic. Francesca’s heir isn’t old enough to keep his or her eyes open for more than an hour at a time and House DeThane has no allies up north at the moment because all their former trading partners don’t want to lose trading agreements by housing her, and she doesn’t know if House ven Sancte is going to support her. She’s by herself. If I were her, I’d wait out the winter until it’s safe for the baby to travel, then go to Three Hills and meet up with Franz if he’s still there. Then I’d announce to the world that I had Francesca’s heir with me.” 

The fact that Margery didn’t answer was proof enough that Geoffrey was right. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Stephan decided. “It doesn’t matter where she is or what she’s going to do. We can’t do anything about it right now. There are too many problems surrounding us to try and solve all of them today. We’ll focus on Hans, and once that’s dealt with we’ll worry about other challenges.” 

“A wise plan, my king,” Ulrich said with a nod. 

“I’m glad you agree,” Stephan said, looking up as the throne room door edged open. It wasn’t supposed to do that during these meetings, especially without warning.

Flora DiGorre slipped inside, letting the door bang shut behind her. “Why isn’t she in her room?” Margery asked in an undertone.

“She’s not a prisoner,” Stephan said. “She can go around the castle as she likes. Princess, what do you need? We’re in the middle of something.” 

Flora nodded, gliding towards them with a grace that a girl her age shouldn’t have. “I heard that my uncle is marching on the capital with an army. Is that true?”

“How did you hear about that?” Ulrich demanded gruffly. “It is not yet common knowledge.” 

Before Stephan could chide him for his tone, Flora smiled, approaching the table. There was no chair for her, so she stood. “I overheard some servants talking about it. He didn’t have that many soldiers with him when he left. Is he really a threat to the king?”

“No,” Geoffrey told her, confidently. “But he has the backing of the Sorcerer King in the Fury Plateau.” 

Flora nodded slowly. “Good.” 

“No need to get too excited,” Margery told her with a smile. “He won’t be making it to the city.” 

“No, I mean that’s good, because it means nobody will want to support him,” Flora said. “If he tries to dethrone you and make himself king, everyone’s going to know he’s doing it with the power of a rebel who doesn’t respect Kyainese authority at his back.”

“At least,” Geoffrey said, watching her with tilted head. “They’ll know if we make sure to tell them. He’ll never get support from anyone. We won’t have to worry about people in the city. That’s a good point.” 

Flora smiled. “And we’ll have the might of the Circle behind us as well, won’t we, Master Jorge?” she asked. “If Hans is going to attack with the power of a sorcerer at his back?”

“Y-yes, my princess,” Jorge said, nodding as if taken aback. “You will. I’ll write to them straightaway, in fact.” 

“There’s no need to write to them. I’m told that there’s a spell that can affect long-distance communication. You can use that.” 

Jorge blushed. “Yes, of course.” 

“It seems,” Ulrich said slowly, “that you’ve put a lot of thought into all this in the short time since you’ve heard about it.” 

“I’ve little to do in this castle but think, Lord Ulrich,” Flora told him. “My king, I’d like to have a moment of your time privately, if I might.” 

“That hardly seems…”

“It’s fine,” Stephan said, silencing Ulrich with a gesture. “You four wait outside.” 

Geoffrey was the only one who moved when he spoke, giving Flora a look. But he bowed at Stephan. “I’ll be right outside when you’re ready for me, my king.” 

And he turned to leave, forcing the others to get up and excuse themselves as well. They filed out of the throne room through the same door Flora had used to enter, leaving the two of them alone. There were now four empty chairs at the table, but Flora remained standing. “What do you need, Flora?” Stephan asked. 

Flora regarded Stephan carefully. “I require you not to panic.” 

“Panic?” Stephan frowned. Was Flora going to try something? “Why would I panic, Flora?” He tried not to look like he was edging away. She was only a little girl.

Flora smiled, not the bright smile of a child but the calculating one of someone used to scheming. “Because I’m not, at the moment at least, Flora DiGorre.” 

Around her in the air, black threads had started to appear, connected to Flora’s arms and legs and head, and to the rest of her, wrapped about her as if holding her up. “What…” Stephan did stand now, backing away. The threads all seemed to float off in the same direction, their ends disappearing from sight like illusions. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m borrowing the princess’s body for a short time,” Flora said. “Don’t worry, she’s in no danger, and I’ll return her once we’re finished speaking. My name is Klaus.” 

“Klaus,” Stephan repeated, looking at the strings, fear stealing through him. He shouldn’t have sent everyone away. “Who are you?” 

“Someone very concerned about what is happening in Kyaine currently,” Flora—Klaus told him. “And specifically, very concerned about what Hans’s alliance with the Sorcerer King means.” 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Stephan said, trying not to back up farther, reminding himself that he was the king. “And it means Hans won’t win the support of the people. You just said that.” 

“That was Flora, in fact. And she was right. But that doesn’t matter. It is what the alliance represents that is of concern to me. I would help you deal with this.”

“You would help me?” Stephan asked, frowning. “What does that even mean? You haven’t even told me who you are.” 

“I am someone who is very good at solving problems,” Klaus said, Flora’s expression not changing. “And you have many problems, not the least of which is that you aren’t going to survive the next few weeks if things go as they have been.” 

Stephan went cold. “How do you know that?”

“Far too many people are conspiring against you, I’m afraid,” Klaus said with a shake of Flora’s head. “Rather a large number of people seek your head, as I’m sure you’re aware. Most of them, including the ones you don’t know about yet, will be at your banquet. You and your security lack the capacity to ensure that you remain breathing, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll increase security. I’ll…” Stephan scowled. “For all I know you’re one of those people! You’ve possessed the princess—you must be some kind of demon or ghost.” There had to be a way to get him out of Flora. Maybe Jorge could help. 

“I must be,” Klaus agreed with a nod. “I assure you, I mean no harm to you or your companion.” 

Stephan stopped, breath hitching for a second. “My…my companion? What about Neville? What do you know about him?”

“You are not the only king I keep an eye on,” Klaus said. “I am in many places. And I know that this girl’s brother fully intends to kill Neville before he can leave Three Hills.”

“But…”

“As I said,” Klaus told Stephan, hand on the table. “You have many, many problems.” 

Stephan shook his head, gathering his bravery and approaching Klaus. He tried to grab one of the strings, but his hand went right through it. “You’re lying,” he whispered. Though it made sense. It was something he could see Franz doing. 

“I very rarely lie.” Klaus smiled at Stephan. “I would like to help you, King Stephan. You and Neville both—and your kingdom as well.” 

Stephan wished someone else were here. Geoffrey or Neville or even Ulrich or Margery. They were just outside. He should call for them. “I…”

“You needn’t decide immediately,” Klaus said, holding up Flora’s hand. “If you like I can come back some other time. I am afraid, however, that I will have to ask you to forget this conversation after I’m gone. I’d rather remain unseen by most.” 

“But…if I forget, how am I supposed to think about it?” Stephan demanded. He didn’t question that Klaus could make him forget. He obviously had serious magic powers. 

“You will remember when you need to,” was all Klaus said. 

Stephan was trying to think, he was trying to think but he felt trapped and it was so hard, so hard not to just think of Neville dying. “What…what do you want from me?” he asked. “You’re not going to help me for nothing. Nobody helps someone for nothing. What are you going to get out of helping me?”

“Ah, yes, the exchange. I should tell you what I need so you can make a proper decision.”

Stephan had known it. He’d known Klaus would want something. “Tell me.” 

“It’s really hardly anything at all.” Klaus nodded, and had Flora pull out a chair, finally sitting down and gesturing for Stephan to do the same. “A minor inconvenience for you—you might even enjoy it. Allow me to tell you a story about a young man named Daniel.”


	12. The King's Castle Is the Most Public of Homes, Always Full of People and Plans

“My king?” 

Stephan tried not to jump or cling to the doorway at Margery’s voice. “Hello, Margery,” he said, leaving the sitting room he’d been in and joining her in the hallway. “Were you waiting for me?”

“No, I just happened by and saw your guards.” Margery gestured to the two guards. “They’re following you around the castle again.” 

“It seemed like a good precaution to take,” Stephan said, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked. Margery fell into step beside him. 

“Ulrich’s suggestion?” Margery asked. 

Stephan smiled. “No. I do have ideas of my own sometimes, you know.” 

“Of course,” Margery said, chuckling a little to show she’d gotten the joke. It hadn’t been a joke. “I meant no insult, my king. I was only curious.” 

“Curious to know if Ulrich was having me followed?”

“Admittedly, it’s something I’ve thought about in the past.” 

Stephan looked at her, curious. “Is it? You’ve thought he was following me and never said anything?” 

“I never had any reason to assume it wasn’t benevolent,” Margery said. “Until recently.”

Stephan nodded. “Geoffrey thinks he won’t try to hurt me for the next little while because of Hans.”

“I think Geoffrey is wrong.”

So did Klaus. “Why?” 

“Because chaos is too easy for a man like him to take advantage of,” Margery explained. “Killing you would get Hans on his side.”

“And a lot of other people too,” Stephan added. “Because nobody would complain, because nobody likes me.”

“I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,” Margery said, looking away. 

“But it’s true.”

“I think many people like you. Like any monarch, you have those who don’t.” 

Stephan sighed. “Why do you all think I can’t handle the truth? It’s lying that bothers me, Margery, not the truth.” 

Margery was quiet for a long moment as they walked. When they reached an intersecting hallway, she stopped and Stephan did too. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to lie to you, my king. But I do tend to want to…soften the truth a little. A great many people are still unhappy with you as king. It’s not unexpected considering the circumstances and frankly I’m not worried about it. I’ve been keeping an eye on it and it’s dying down. I should go, but…remember that. Regardless of what Ulrich tries to make you think. It’s getting better. By spring you’ll be fine.”

“If I survive until the spring,” Stephan said. 

“We’ll make sure you do. I’ll keep Ulrich in check. Bringing Geoffrey on was a good idea—I didn’t agree with it at the time, but you were right to do it.” 

Stephan hoped that was true. But he didn’t have the confidence in them that he knew he ought to. Klaus was right, he thought—Stephan didn’t remember most of what they’d talked about, but he did remember Klaus saying that there were too many people looking to kill him for him to have a good chance of surviving unless something was done. “Thank you, Margery. I appreciate your dedication.” 

Margery smiled. “I think you’ll be a good king. In fact, I think you already are, my king.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I should take my leave. There are a lot of details to be seen to for the banquet. I’m sorry to have ambushed you like that.” 

“Think nothing of it,” Stephan said, letting Margery go with a nod. She turned and headed down the hallway, and he kept on going. 

Stephan had thought about cancelling the banquet, but Klaus had advised against it. It was, according to him, the best way to draw out the people who were trying to kill him. If not at the actual banquet, then shortly after. Stephan’s people should be able to find more by having everyone in once place than they would otherwise.

Unless, of course, Stephan’s people were among the people who wanted him dead. Which was entirely possible. Which was why he hadn’t spoken to anyone about Klaus. Flora hadn’t remembered him at all upon his leaving her body. It was a curious power, one that frightened Stephan. But one that, if used in his favour, would really help him. And Klaus wanted to help him. Stephan couldn’t remember why, but he did. 

“We have to kill him.” 

Stephan stopped, the guards stopping with him. He waved them back, edging toward the door through which he’d heard Giacomo DiSheere’s voice. 

“No, Giacomo,” Geoffrey said. “We really don’t.” 

“We do,” Giacomo stressed. “He’s going to try and kill the king at the banquet if we don’t.” 

“Why would Ulrich try to kill the king, Giacomo?” Geoffrey said with a sigh. “We’ve been through this. Ulrich needs Stephan to keep the kingdom stable. As long as Hans is on his way here, there’s no danger from him. We should be paying attention to people who actually want to hurt the king.” 

“I think you’re wrong,” Giacomo said. Why were they having this conversation in the castle instead of their house? “Killing Stephan is a good move for Ulrich right now. He can take charge of the army, kill Hans and end up king himself. Come on, Geoffrey. I’m smarter than you, you know I’m right about this.”

“Being smarter than me and being right aren’t the same thing,” Geoffrey said. Stephan wondered what it said that he was the only one who seemed to think Ulrich wasn’t immediately dangerous. “You don’t know Ulrich as well as I do. He’s more careful than you think.”

“Fine. Even if he’s not going to kill the king, there’s still the fact that he killed our dad.” 

“You want revenge?”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course, but dad picked the wrong side, Giacomo. Ulrich wasn’t responsible for his death any more than Stephan was.”

“So you’re saying it was his own fault?” Giacomo demanded.

“I’m saying we’re not assassinating Ulrich and throwing Hawk’s Roost into chaos right before an important public event when there’s a civil war marching on us and another one brewing north of the border, Giacomo,” Geoffrey said. “That’s it. The answer is no.”

Giacomo sighed. “Fine. We are going to kill him, though, right?”

“Of course we are. Just not now. Come on, don’t worry so much.” 

Stephan smiled, and moved past the door without either of them seeing him. He didn’t really want to go in and talk to them right now, especially because he didn’t think Geoffrey was right about Ulrich, but it was good to know that they were on his side. 

He’d talk to them about assassinating Ulrich after the Hans stuff had calmed down—he didn’t think that was a good idea at all. Stephan would rather arrest him than kill him. Killing him put them in the wrong, whereas if they could arrest him, it would show that he’d been in the wrong and he could be properly punished. Stephan didn’t want to be a king who ruled through force and by killing people quietly when he didn’t like them. That wouldn’t end well—it would ensure that he ended his own reign by being assassinated someday too. 

The castle, he reflected as he kept walking, felt a lot more like home than it had when he’d moved in. It was the natural consequence of the fact that he’d lived there for a while now, but he’d never thought he’d grow used to being king. But he was. 

Now he just needed Neville to come back and share it with him, and it would be fine. Now he just needed to protect himself, protect Neville, and protect Kyaine long enough for that to happen. 

“My king.” 

Stephan looked up as Ulrich approached him. “I didn’t know you were in the castle, Ulrich,” Stephan said, trying not to sound suspicious. He wasn’t sure what exactly sounded suspicious, but if he made his voice sound normal it was probably fine. 

“I often am,” Ulrich said. “It’s easier to get certain work done here than from my manor.”

“What kind of work?” Stephan asked. At the moment, Ulrich was mostly writing letters to make sure that various people would commit troops if it came to that. He was pulling defences towards the capital as Stephan had warned him. 

“I’ve been meeting with a number of the nobles who’ve come to the capital for the banquet,” Ulrich explained. “In order to discuss what they’re going to do to help your defence. I feel the castle is more conducive to that than my house—I fear that conducting such meetings at my residence would give the impression that it was on my authority that the defence was happening, rather than yours. Of course, the last thing I want to do is undermine the crown.” 

“Of course,” Stephan said, wondering how someone could sound so sincere while not saying anything true. “I really appreciate your loyalty, Ulrich. You’ve always been such a help.” 

“It’s been my pleasure, my king. It’s as I said last year, I think the kingdom can’t be better off than with you on the throne.” 

That was exactly what he’d said when they’d started planning the coup. “Something I’ve wondered for a while—how long had you been thinking that before you suggested it to me?” 

“What do you mean?” Ulrich asked. 

“I mean, when my father and Dana died and you reached out to me,” Stephan said. “Did you already want me to be king then?”

Ulrich smiled sadly. “No, my king. I merely wanted to make sure my friend’s son was doing well in the wake of a tragedy. I certainly wasn’t planning anything political for you back then—I hardly knew you, and you’d just lost your family. It would have been horrifically inappropriate.” 

Stephan nodded. “So it was later.” 

“After you’d come to the capital,” Ulrich agreed. “It was after Francesca had sent Hans away, in fact—that was when I realized she didn’t know what she was doing any longer.” 

“That was when I realized it too,” Stephan said. “Okay. Thank you, Lord Ulrich. For everything you’ve done for me.” 

“You’ve done just as much for me, my king.” Ulrich smiled. “I think the alliance between our houses has been extremely positive.” 

“I do too,” Stephan said. It wasn’t even a lie—being allied with House Elderbyne had helped him immensely. House Fyrhawk had never had many allies in northern Kyaine thanks to their tendency for being on the wrong side of nearly every civil war in history. All it had taken was Ulrich and Margery’s friendship to make his family relevant again. 

“I’d like to suggest something to you,” Ulrich said. “Which I’d like you to consider but not answer until you’ve thought it through.” 

That was strange. Usually Ulrich wanted him to be decisive. “What is it?”

“My son Uri.” 

“Yes,” Stephan said. Uri was nine and not here in the capital. Ulrich had brought his daughter Lydia, but left Uri home with his wife. “What about him?”

“I’d like to propose marrying him to your sister.”

“Sophia?” Stephan frowned. She fourteen, and at home managing their house’s lands. Truth be told, Stephan rarely thought about her—they’d never been very close and dad and Dana dying had cast a pall over their relationship. He’d asked her to come to the capital after the coronation and she’d refused, wanting to stay and manage the silver mines and the money that came from them. 

“Yes,” Ulrich agreed. “Of course, only if you think it’s for the best. But it would represent a permanent alliance between our houses. But I don’t want to press the issue further, or take up too much of your attention right now. It’s something to think about in the future when you’ve the leisure.” He smiled. “Uri is only nine, after all.” 

Stephan nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it, Ulrich. Thank you.” 

“Always. I should take my leave and return to these meetings,” Ulrich said. “I shall see you this evening, perhaps?”

“Sure. Let’s have dinner,” Stephan said.

Ulrich nodded, patting Stephan on the shoulder in a fatherly way. “I’d like that, Stephan. I’ll see you then.” 

He went off, leaving Stephan alone with his guards. He felt himself sweating, breathing quickly. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been. 

How, Stephan wondered, did people do that? How did they say one thing and mean another? How did they lie and make it sound like the truth? How did they tell the truth and make it into a lie? He didn’t understand. And he knew he should, but he didn’t. He’d always relied on Neville to help him with that. 

Stephan headed for his bedroom, hoping to find there somewhere he could be away from schemes and plans and truths that were lies for just a few minutes.


	13. As King, Sometimes You Stand in a Crowded Room Entirely Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a Penguin Brand Banquet.

“I’m sure you probably don’t want to waste your whole night talking to me, my king.” Janus DiCrawe was a big-eyed boy who slouched all the time. “I should let you go.”

Stephan chuckled. “I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t want to, Janus. But I probably should see what else is going on tonight. Maybe I’ll see you again later.” 

“I’d like that, my king,” Janus said with a smile. 

Stephan nodded. He liked Janus. And the others were right, having him on the council wasn’t a bad idea—he was smart, he knew what was happening in the south, and he’d said more than once during their conversation that he didn’t think that it was his place to try and tell the king what to do—which might mean that if he were an advisor of Stephan’s, he wouldn’t try to manipulate him like the others. 

Stephan liked the idea of having another southerner at the table too. It was someone inclined to be on his side, which was rare. 

“Me too. And my condolences again for your mother,” Stephan said. Despite what Geoffrey had said before, he felt closer to Janus because of that—losing a parent was hard. Maybe that was why he’d trusted Geoffrey so easily as well. 

“Thank you, my king,” Janus said, bowing out of the conversation with grace, and joining the ancient Heinrich Ockhar near a table a short distance away. Stephan had spoken with him earlier too. In fact, he’d spoken with just about everyone here, which was the point of the banquet happening, really. Tomorrow, he and his advisors would have a meeting and talk about whether they wanted any of these people to join the council or whether to just send them all home. Either way, everyone would remember the king’s generosity, including the common people, who were having a feast of their own outside. 

And there’d been no security trouble, no danger at all. It seemed like Geoffrey had been right after all; Ulrich hadn’t done anything except drink a little bit too much and talk to a lot of people. 

“Having fun, my king?” Margery asked, from behind Stephan. He turned, saw her approaching him, wineglass in hand. She looked startling in her red ball gown. “I noticed you conclude your last interview just now.” 

Stephan nodded. “It went very well. Have you had a chance to speak with everyone yet?”

“Just about. I believe Esmerelda is avoiding me, which is likely because she’s my mother by law,” Margery laughed, taking a sip of wine and then looking into her cup to find it empty. “I’ll pin her down by the end of the night, though.”

“Good, good. I think it’s going well,” Stephan said, looking around the room. “And it’s been quiet, too.” 

“Yes, which though it proves me wrong, I admit is nice,” Margery said. “And speaking of proving me wrong, here comes Geoffrey.” 

He joined them just as she said that, wearing the looser clothes that were in fashion out east, a flowing tunic and pants that were too long for him, rolled at the ankles. “I’m proving you wrong?”

“About Ulrich,” Stephan said. “You were right, he hasn’t tried anything.”

“There’s still time.” Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “It would be foolish. All the nobility is here, every guard in the castle is watching. It’s perfectly safe. And it’s fun. I’m having fun, at least.” 

“I’m glad,” Stephan said, frowning past him. He could see Flora at a nearby table, clearly trying to get away from Hector Matternacht. “Excuse me for a second,” he said, moving between them. “Lord Hector,” he said, getting the northern lord’s attention. He was very large and had Flora all but pinned to a wall. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I mean to ask you when we spoke earlier how the repairs on Yoel Castle are going?”

Flora gave him a grateful smile, and they both listened to Lord Hector bluster on for a few minutes about masons and granite and delays for a few minutes before Stephan pretended to see someone else he had to have Flora meet and got her away from him. “You seemed slightly overwhelmed,” Stephan said. “I hope you don’t mind me rescuing you.”

“I appreciate it,” Flora said, a tired giggle behind her hand. “He’s very good at talking, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Stephan held her hand. “You’re welcome to retire if you’re tired. You’ve been here long enough that nobody would think it rude.” 

“I might,” Flora said, looking around the room. “I’m getting very tired and I’m worried I’ll just fall asleep on someone if I stay up much longer. I had a small drink of wine,” she confided. Stephan nodded knowingly. He never drank alcohol at public events; it just made him tired so he pretended to drink it when it was put in his hands. “Thank you, though, for putting this on. It was fun.” Flora bit her lip, as if wanting to say something. Stephan waited. “I won’t forgive what you did to my family, Stephan. But you’re not a bad person.” 

Stephan felt his heart warm a little at that. “Thank you,” he said. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that, Flora.” 

Flora nodded, squeezing Stephan’s hand. “Maybe I will retire. If I head for the door now, it should only take me half an hour to leave the hall.” 

Stephan laughed, but she wasn’t wrong. “Goodnight, Flora.” 

“Goodnight to you too, Stephan.” 

She broke off, headed into the crowd, wending her way through. Smiling, Stephan headed back to Margery and Geoffrey, who’d collected Ulrich as well. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I had to rescue Flora.” 

“Noble of you, my king,” Ulrich joked, smiling widely. He was always very jovial when he’d been drinking. “Though you seem to have scared her off.”

Stephan laughed. “No, she’s just tired. I gave her leave to go to bed if she wanted.” 

“Assuming she can escape,” Geoffrey said, watching her. He took a fresh glass of wine off the tray of a passing servant. “Oh, she managed to get past Jorge before he could talk to her, good. Unfortunately now he’s coming over here.” 

“Alas,” Ulrich muttered. “I feel he will be easier to speak with upon more wine. I shall acquire some for us, I think.” 

Margery snorted as Ulrich left. “You dislike him that much?”

“The man is odious, what can I say?” And, with a smile, Ulrich left them just as Jorge joined the group, a little out of breath. 

Stephan didn’t find him particularly odious, just a little squirrely. “Jorge,” he said, once he’d joined them. “You’re enjoying the banquet, I trust?”

“Yes, my king. Or rather, I was, my king.” Jorge smiled at him. “You see…”

There was a sudden commotion behind them, a clatter of something and glass cracking. Stephan turned around and saw Giacomo DiSheere on the floor, covered in wine and in a tangle with a servant, a few other noble boys his age laughing at him. Geoffrey sighed. “Excuse me, my king. I must go ceremoniously remove my brother from this situation. And possibly the banquet to change his clothes.” 

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Stephan said, chuckling. “I’m sure he was just having fun.” 

“Surely he can have fun without bothering everyone else, can’t he?” Geoffrey asked with a wink. Stephan wondered if he planned to help Giacomo change his clothes. He handed Stephan his wineglass as he headed over to the site of the catastrophe. 

“Frankly, I’m surprised it wasn’t Geoffrey who ended up covered in wine,” Margery commented, watching it all unfold. “He seems like the type.”

“Does he?” Stephan asked, pretending to sip Geoffrey’s wine out of habit. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“There is something of a…a reputation, in the east, about House DiSheere’s ability to drink,” Jorge said. 

“Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t,” Margery said. “Lord Gerhard did like whiskey quite a lot, as I recall.” 

“Yes, he did,” Jorge said. “I’m sorry, sir, if I could have a moment to…”

“Apologies,” Ulrich said, returning with two glasses of wine in one hand and one in the other. “I had to navigate young Giacomo’s encounter with drink. Ah, I see you’ve found a cup of your own, my king.”

Stephan nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” Margery took one of the glasses from Ulrich and, though it clearly wasn’t for him, Jorge took the other, drinking down half the cup in one gulp.

“Thank you, Lord Ulrich,” Jorge said. 

“You are most welcome, Master Jorge,” Ulrich said drolly, raising his glass. “Cheers. To the king’s health.”

“To the king’s health,” Margery said, raising her own. Jorge’s face darkened and he did the same. 

“Thank you,” Stephan said, raising his own cup, then pretending to drink again when the rest of them did. “I think Jorge would like to tell me something, he’s been trying to say it for several minutes now,” he said, once they’d all finished drinking. 

“Yes, my king, thank you,” Jorge said, though he drained the rest of his glass before speaking again. “I believe, my king, that is to say I know for a fact, that there is an infiltrator at this banquet.” 

Stephan frowned, looking around. “An infiltrator? Who?”

“And how,” Ulrich said, sounding annoyed, “did you come to know this, exactly?”

“I was speaking to the master of servants earlier and…it doesn’t matter. There are two servants at this banquet who are not employed by the castle.”

“What…”

“My king,” Margery said immediately. “I’d ask that you not panic, or react. If Jorge is telling the truth, we might spook them if we do anything other than seem normal.” 

“She’s right,” Ulrich said, nodding. His jovial face was gone, and he looked serious again. “I will arrange a quiet search of all the servants.”

“We may not have time for that,” Jorge insisted. “We must remove the king to safety at once.”

“Two people are hardly a threat to the king’s life,” Margery said. “There are many guards and they’d have to get past you—I recall you saying something about being a wizard?”

“So are they!” Jorge hissed at her. 

“You know who they are?” Stephan asked him, looking at Jorge over the top of his glass. 

“Oh…” Jorge swallowed. “Yes, my king. It’s Ronaldo Harrow’s apprentice and his partner. They were sent here by Franz DiGorre.”

“And how,” Ulrich repeated, moving closer to Jorge, “do you know that, wizard?” Stephan just tried not to seem nervous. Franz had sent someone to kill him. Everyone had been worried about Ulrich, and Franz was the one who was going to try and kill him at the banquet. 

“I…that doesn’t matter! I’m a wizard, we know things! We must remove the king from the room as soon as…”

A scream pierced the air, high and girlish. “Flora,” Stephan said, taking a step towards the doorway. It had come from the hall outside. 

Ulrich grabbed his wrist. “My king, no. Let the guard handle it.”

“Flora’s in danger!” 

Margery coughed, just once, and suddenly fell over, hand on her throat. “Margery!”

Stephan dropped to his knees beside her, not sure what to do. Margery was clawing at her throat, trying to breath. Choking. “Jorge, help her!”

“I…” Jorge was there, hands over her. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Stephan raised a hand as if to hit him.

“She’s been poisoned! I can’t…I can’t heal poison, my king!” 

“Someone get a doctor!” Stephan called, since Jorge was useless. He shoved the wizard aside and looked down at Margery. “It’s going to be okay. Someone’s going to come and help you. Someone’s going to…” he was lying and he knew it. Tears ran down Stephan’s face as Margery clutched him, trying to breathe. Everyone was yelling, so many people were yelling, but Margery wasn’t making any noise. “I’m sorry.” 

Margery’s grip on Stephan’s arm loosened, and she looked at him with sad eyes, and then she died. 

Stephan fell back, looking down at her. Her wine glass was on the carpet beside her, what little wine had been left on the floor, and Stephan picked it up. Poisoned. 

“My king,” Jorge was saying, tugging Stephan to his feet. “You must come, quickly!”

“Poisoned…” Stephan said, shrugging Jorge off. 

“Nobody must be permitted to leave the hall until we know who did this,” Ulrich said. “Else the assassins will flee and never be found.” 

“This wineglass,” Stephan said, but was interrupted by a guard. 

“My king,” the guard said, out of breath. “Princess Flora was attacked. She is unhurt, but Lord Geoffrey was gravely injured protecting her.”

“Geoffrey was?” Stephan was already crying. He couldn’t cry more. The wine had poisoned Margery. 

Margery was dead. Geoffrey was dying. That only left…

“Ulrich,” Stephan whispered, holding out the glass. “You handed this to her.”

“My king, I swear on my children…”

“You got it for me.” People were still shouting, but Stephan couldn’t hear them. All he could see was Ulrich. “You brought this for me, but I already had one and Margery took it instead. I didn’t believe them. I never believed…Guard, arrest Lord Ulrich.”

“My king?”

“The crown charges him with the murder of Lady Margery DiCosst, with the attempted murder of Princess Flora DiGorre, and with the attempted murder of the king.” 

Ulrich looked scared. He looked angry. “My king. Please, don’t overreact. I swear, I was not responsible…”

“Take him away,” Stephan said, and he turned away, letting the guard pull Ulrich away. “Jorge, go see if you can help Geoffrey. Now.” 

“My king, your safety…”

“ _Now_ , Jorge.”

Jorge swallowed. “Yes, my king.” And he scurried off. 

Stephan looked down at Margery, staring up at him. “You were right,” he said quietly. “You were right.” 

Margery was dead, Geoffrey might soon be. Ulrich was responsible. 

And that left Stephan…alone.


	14. Kings Are Subject to the Ironies of History More than Anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end here.

“Bring in the prisoner.” 

At Stephan’s order, the throne room doors opened, and two guards came in, flanking Ulrich, who was in chains. Murmuring ran through the crowd of assembled nobles, which was far bigger than even what Stephan had grown used to since all the nobility had stayed in town after the banquet. Waiting for the trial. All of them had been watching him, but now they were looking at Ulrich as he was marched towards the throne. 

“You don’t have to do this now,” Giacomo DiSheere told him quietly, standing at Stephan’s left. “If you want to you can have them take him away for a few more days.” 

He must have seen the look on Stephan’s face, and Stephan shook his head, schooling himself. “I’m doing it now.” 

Giacomo nodded, and handed Stephan a goblet, sipping from it first. “Ice water,” he said. “You still have a headache, right?” 

He did, and Stephan didn’t drink it. He’d barely had anything to drink in the last few days, even if it was tested. Giacomo had tested all his food for him. “How’s Geoffrey?” He thought he’d probably asked that already, but he didn’t remember. 

“Fine. He’s breathing normally. He’s not awake yet.” 

Stephan nodded, setting the water down on the arm of the throne. Jorge had healed Geoffrey, but seemingly not well, since he was still asleep. He wasn’t hurt, though. Somehow, Giacomo had fallen into Geoffrey’s place as Stephan’s advisor, which wasn’t a good solution in the long term—he was too young. Stephan would have to name a few people to his council soon, maybe today. With Margery dead and Ulrich in chains, even if Geoffrey woke up he’d need new advisors. He should have done it sooner, because Stephan didn’t know who had been running the kingdom for the past three days. It hadn’t been him. Maybe it had been Giacomo DiSheere. Geoffrey said he was smart. 

“Okay,” Stephan said, taking a breath. Ulrich was before him now, and the nobles waiting for something to happen. “Ulrich Elderbyne,” he said, highly aware that Ulrich’s family was in the room. Even little Uri. They’d all come for the banquet. Margery’s family too. “You stand accused of murder, attempted murder, and attempted regicide. Do you refute these charges?”

“I do, my king,” Ulrich said, standing straight. He looked Stephan in the eye. “I am not guilty of the crimes committed two nights past. I understand that it was a chaotic moment, but I regret to say that the crown has made a mistake in imprisoning me.” 

He sounded so calm. Stephan almost believed that he was innocent. He’d handed Margery the poisoned wineglass, though. “If you’re innocent, then who poisoned the glass that you meant to hand to me?” 

“I don’t know, but my king, you know me better than that,” Ulrich said. “I would not take such a chance on something that could so easily go awry. If I were to have tried poisoning you, all the cups would have been doctored, not only yours.” 

Another hush fell at that, the nobles all looking at each other in the wake of Ulrich’s audacity. Uri Elderbyne was crying, his sister trying to quiet him. “So the fact that only one person died is meant to be evidence of your innocence?” Giacomo asked, the fact that he was on the dais with Stephan lending the authority that his age would preclude normally. “If you didn’t poison Lady Margery, then who did?”

“I’ve hardly had the chance to investigate while incarcerated,” Ulrich said, tone dismissive of Giacomo. “But my king, you might consider looking harder at the man who seemed insistent that we were going to be attacked at the banquet—and who kept trying to get you to leave the room with him.” 

“Jorge,” Stephan said, turning to him. He and Flora were the only other two people on the dais. Jorge had been looking increasingly nervous, scanning the room repeatedly as if expecting more murderers to appear. He kept insisting that someone in the castle was going to try and kill Stephan again, that Ronaldo’s apprentice was still out there. He’d been wrong so far. 

Jorge held up his hands, stepping forward. A few of Stephan’s guards made threatening moves. Jorge stopped. “My king. I would remind you that I was quite possibly the only person at the banquet trying to protect you, including your own guards, who weren’t at their posts. I am the one who healed Lord Geoffrey after he selflessly defended the princess from those same guards.” 

The guards shifted even more at that. Giacomo was giving Jorge a flat, unimpressed look. Flora was looking at her hands. 

“You never did tell us how it is that you knew there were interlopers at the banquet, Jorge,” Ulrich said, chains clinking. “Did you invite them, perhaps?”

Jorge’s face contorted just enough, he stepped back, head held high as he looked down his nose at Ulrich. “I will not take such slander from a murderer. I knew there was a wizard in the city, I sought him out and found out his plans, then came back to the king to inform him.”

“Instead of making sure they didn’t make it into the banquet at all,” Flora said, so quietly that most of the room probably didn’t hear her. Stephan did, though, and or just a second he thought he saw a black thread around her. It might have been his imagination. 

“Well…that hardly changes the fact that Lord Ulrich was the one who poisoned Lady Margery!” Jorge declared. 

“It doesn’t,” Giacomo agreed. “But it makes you suspicious too. My king, why would Ulrich poison Margery at the same time as having armed thugs try to kill the princess? It’s two totally different types of attack.” 

“That’s true,” Stephan said, mouth dry. He caught himself sipping the water Giacomo had given him and made himself put it down. He shouldn’t be following Giacomo’s lead so much. He was the king here, Giacomo was just a boy, and he had a personal stake in casting blame on whoever he thought was responsible for the attack that had hurt Geoffrey. That might lead him to jump to conclusions. “But we need to proceed rationally. Lord Ulrich, we know you killed Margery.” 

“No, my king. You know the wine killed poor Margery. Did you have someone look into who’d been near it? Did you speak with the master of servants? Did you ensure that all the servants at the banquet were accounted for? Curious, isn’t it, that the one who said there were interlopers disguised as castle servants never raised the possibility that it was the servant who handed me the wine who did the poisoning?” Ulrich looked at Jorge. “One wonders why.” 

He was right. That _was_ strange. Had…had Stephan made a mistake? But Jorge had saved Geoffrey. But he hadn’t been trying to kill Geoffrey. Flora had been the target. But Giacomo didn’t think the two attacks had the same perpetrator. But…

Stephan’s head hurt too much for this. He was thirsty. 

But he had to say something. He was the king. He was…

Bells started ringing, an alarm. “What’s that?” he demanded. Giacomo waved a messenger to the door. Flora stood up. 

The doors burst open before the messenger could get there, and a guard broke in. “My king! The gates! An army—Lord Hans’s army is here!”

“That’s impossible,” Stephan said, having to raise his voice over the cry that went up. Hans was still weeks away. There was no way he was here already. 

Jorge was laughing on the other side of the dais, the guards drawing weapons slowly. Flora had moved behind Stephan. “You knew about this,” Stephan accused.

Jorge smiled at him. “You were supposed to be dead when he got here, but there’s still time.” He raised his hand, fire blooming.

And then it went out, and Jorge seemed confused for just a second before something threw him into the wall, sending a shout through the hall. Flora put her hand around Stephan’s wrist. 

“Sound the call to arms,” Ulrich said calmly, voice carrying over the noise. “Gather the soldiers. If Hans had inside help, the gates are likely open. We’ll fight him all the way to the castle. We will not allow him to harm the king!”

The guards seemed uncertain. “Do as he says,” Stephan said. “Unchain him.”

“My king…”

Stephan looked at Giacomo. “Help Lord Ulrich arrange the defence. Can you do that?” It was too much to ask of a boy. 

Giacomo nodded. “Yes, my king.” He hurried off. 

“Was that you?” Stephan asked Flora, looking at Jorge’s fallen body as the guards hoisted him up to take away.

“No,” Klaus said. “It was someone who was planning to kill you.”

“Then why…”

“The world is strange sometimes, Stephan. I must return Flora to her room. I will see you again shortly.”

“But…” Stephan turned to face Klaus.

“I said I’d safeguard you and I will,” Klaus promised. “But for now Flora has to leave with the other nobility. Stay in the throne room, do as Lord Ulrich says and do not trust that boy. I will look different, but I will see you again soon.”

“Klaus!” But Flora slumped, blinking, and looking confused for just a second. “Are you okay?” he asked Flora.

Flora nodded. “I must have grown faint. I’m…frightened. I don’t think Hans means well—for anyone, including me.” 

“I agree,” Stephan said, looking around. Everything was chaos. “Go back to your room, find Dorothy. We’ll fight him off—we will.”

“If you say so,” Flora said, taking a breath, stepping down from the dais. “Thank you, my king.”

Had she called him that before now at all? Stephan smiled at her. Flora nodded and left, joining the people leaving the throne room.

Stephan was thirsty. He went to grab the cup of water from before, because what did it matter now? Klaus had said not to trust Giacomo, but the water wasn’t poisoned. Even if it was, it hardly mattered.

The cup had been knocked over in the commotion, spilled on the floor, broken glass beneath the feet of the throne. Stephan looked at it for a long while, until the nobles had left and the throne room was locked down with full security on every door. It Hans could get here so quickly, the army wasn’t going to stop him getting through the city, and into the castle. 

The castle, Stephan realized now, was a prison, and it always had been. And all he’d been doing this whole time was wrapping chains more tightly around himself. He wondered if that was just for him, or if it was true of all monarchs. Would it be true of Hans? Had it been true of Francesca? “Did you know?” he asked her, but she was dead. “You did, didn’t you? I’m sorry.” He wished Neville were here. 

And so, with nothing else to do, King Stephan Fyrhawk sat on his stolen throne. And waited.


	15. Usurping the Throne Is Easy, Keeping it Is Hard, Losing it Is Effortless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of Stephan's story! I hope you guys enjoy, and thanks to all of you for sticking around for the whole thing! I'm pleased with how it turned out and I hope you are too! Thank you for reading!

“Lord Hans is approaching King Ludwig’s Plaza now, sir,” 

Stephan nodded, head pounding. “Thank you,” he said to the messenger, dismissing him. The boy looked worried, but he’d be fine. It wasn’t him that Hans was going to kill. King Ludwig’s Plaza was the second of three major battlestations leading from the main gate of the city to the castle. It was where Ulrich and Giacomo would be setting up the first wave of defence—there had been no time to set up defences in Flame Square, the first point of defence. 

Giacomo was a little boy, not a military commander. Ulrich was in the city, but Giacomo was here in the castle, handling deployments, supplies, messages. _Don’t trust that boy_ , Klaus had said. Stephan hadn’t seen him. What was he doing? 

He raised his head as the messenger left. “Tell Giacomo I want to speak with him.” 

“Y-yes, my king,” the messenger said, looking at him warily. He left through the main door. The side doors were how Cordelia DeThane had gotten in during Francesca’s abdication and caused everything to go wrong. They were barred so that anyone who came in had to do it through the main doors, where the guards were. 

No, it wasn’t with Cordelia that everything had gone wrong. It wasn’t with her, or Ulrich, or Margery or Francesca or Neville or… It was with Stephan. He never should have agreed to the coup. He wasn’t cut out to be king. He should have told Ulrich and Margery no and stayed as the queen’s military advisor. He’d been good at that. He’d been happy like that. Inasmuch as he’d been happy at all since his father had died. 

As king, everything that happened was his fault or his problem. But even without that, all of it was his fault anyway. He’d messed up everything. The whole country. Everything. 

And now he was going to lose everything for it. 

“Halt!”

Stephan looked up at the guard’s call. The door hadn’t shut fully, and after the messenger had left it had been pushed open. A young man came in, dressed in a servant’s uniform, but he was looking right at Stephan, coming into the room without regard for the guards or protocol. Stephan raised his head, ignoring the cry of protest it sent down his spine. 

“I said halt!” the guard said, three of them converging on the servant. 

Who smiled, made a gentle gesture with one hand. 

All three guards—and the other five who hadn’t been converging, fell to the ground at once. The intruder stepped over one of them, coming closer to the throne. “You’re the king, right?” he asked quietly. “Stephan Fyrhawk.” 

Stephan stood up. “Y-yes.” He’d wanted to sound firm, but his voice wavered. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Gus,” the servant said. He wasn’t a servant. 

“I…” Stephan frowned, trying to swallow. His mouth was so dry. “I don’t know you.” 

“No,’ Gus said, shaking his head. He was wearing a metal gauntlet, a necklace, some keys at his hip. “We’ve never met.” 

“Okay,” Stephan said. He took a breath, then another. “I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I don’t know. I always thought I’d be killed by someone I knew.” It was foolish. Life wasn’t a story. It didn’t work like that. 

Gus smiled again, stepping closer. “If it makes you feel better, I was sent by people you know.” 

Of course. Stephan tried to remember. He was dressed like a servant. “Franz.” 

“He wanted his sister rescued. My friend is doing that now.” Gus looked up, looked him in the eye, even from only halfway down the throne room. “Cordelia DeThane ordered us to kill you while we were here.” 

Right. Stephan didn’t even feel surprised, or afraid. He just lowered his head. “I didn’t want any of this,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have.”

“I…”

“You’re an idiot if you thought you could take over a kingdom with no bloodshed. If you didn’t want to hurt anyone you shouldn’t have, Stephan.” 

Stephan didn’t know what to say. Gus was right. “I know. Just…is it going to hurt?” 

“Yes,” Gus said, emotionless. “I’m sorry, it always does a little bit.” 

“Okay,” Stephan said, voice cracking. He sat back down on the throne. He wished it didn’t have to hurt. “I guess I deserve that, don’t I?”

“It’s not a question of whether you deserve it. It’s just the way it is. Hold still.” Gus raised his hand. Stephan shut his eyes. 

The door creaked. Nothing was happening. Footsteps fell, softly on the carpet. “You asked to see me, my king?” 

Stephan’s eyes opened. Giacomo DiSheere was standing there behind Gus, apparently unconcerned. “Giacomo, I…run, just go. Quickly.” 

“No,” Giacomo said, drawing level with Gus. There was a knife in his hand. “I can’t do that. Because it looks to me like this guy here wants to kill you, and I can’t let him do that.” 

“You’re the boy with the wine,” Gus said. “I’m not here to hurt anyone but Stephan. Go to sleep.” 

“No, you don’t understand,” Giacomo said, smiling. “I need to be the one who kills him. Otherwise Hans is going to have a hard time believing that my family is on his side when he gets here.” 

Now Stephan felt cold. “You…”

“Ulrich thought putting me in charge of messages and supplies was something I couldn’t mess up, can you believe that?” Giacomo smiled. “Not your smartest advisor, was he? King Hans should he routing him in Ludwig’s Plaza right about now. He’ll retreat to Hawk’s Square and find out that his reinforcements aren’t there. Honestly, you should have just executed him. Saved me the trouble.”

“You?” 

“Ah,” Gus said, nodding. “So that’s why you poisoned Margery.” 

“Aw,” Giacomo said, suddenly sounding the boy he was, caught in a prank. “You noticed? I’d hoped I snuck by everyone.” 

“I have an unfair advantage,” Gus told him. “Crashing into Ignatius so Ulrich would grab the right wine was too obvious.” 

“You know, I was kind of hoping I could be all cool about this and just kill Stephan without all the tacky exposition,” Giacomo confessed. “Let him die in ignorance. It’s how he lived.” 

“But…why, though?” Stephan asked, shaking his head. Giacomo had seemed like a nice boy. Did Geoffrey know about this?

Giacomo just gave him an incredulous look. “You killed my dad. And Geoffrey was too busy sucking your dick to stab you like he should have, so someone had to do it.” 

Stephan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “That easy. I killed your dad so you kill me.” Someone was banging on one of the doors, one of the barred ones, trying to get it to open. Violence really was that easy, wasn’t it?

“Sorry if you were expecting more. Don’t get in my way,” he said to Gus, moving up to the throne.

The castle shook suddenly. Gus looked up. “Fine,” he said. “If it means that much to you.” He stepped aside.

Giacomo nodded at him, and raised the knife, approaching Stephan. Stephan tried not to cower or hide. He should have that much dignity, at least. He was shaking. He was going to die. _I’m sorry, Neville._

“Ah,” Gus said suddenly, hand up. “I’m sorry, young man. I’m going to need you to stop.” 

“What? I said, don’t…” Giacomo turned around. 

And collapsed on the ground in front of Gus, who wasn’t Gus anymore. Black threads surrounded him, holding him up. “I told you I’d see you again soon, Stephan.” 

Stephan stood up again, nearly tripping over the throne. “Are…are you everyone?” he demanded. 

“No,” Klaus said. “Alas, even my power has limits. But conveniently I came across young Gus a number of years ago. Funny how the world brings people together, isn’t it?”

“It’s not funny,” Stephan whispered. “Your power isn’t funny.” He was scared. He was just as scared of Klaus as he was of anyone. 

“No, but few things, I find, are laughing matters these days. Do you remember what we discussed?” 

Stephan blinked, and he did. “Yes.” 

“Do you agree then, to my terms?” Klaus asked evenly. The banging on the door had stopped. 

“Are you…are you going to put those strings on me?” Klaus wanted Stephan’s help. But it seemed like a lot of people helped him without even knowing it. 

“No. I have other uses for you, Stephan.” Klaus looked over his shoulder. “I don’t want to rush you, but I’m afraid you’re out of time. You must decide now.” 

“Decide,” Stephan muttered. Help Klaus rescue someone from a horrible fate, or stay here and die. It wasn’t much of a decision. Yet… “I’ve never made a good decision in my life.” 

“I expect you’ve made more than you think, Stephan. Even so.” 

“Even so. I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” It wasn’t like he had a choice. But still it…it felt like his choice. It felt like something he was deciding for himself, unlike all the rest of this, which had been decided for him. “Because if I said no, you’d let me die.” 

“Yes I would,” Klaus agreed. “Agreements go both ways.” 

“No, I mean.” Stephan paused for a second. “You wouldn’t force me to help you.”

“No. I can coerce most people into doing most things. There’s hardly need to do so for you as well.” 

“Okay. I’ll do it.” Stephan took a breath. He’d live. For Neville. “What do I have to do?”

“For now, go through that door. I’m afraid that you must give up your crown and throne. There is no way to stop Hans from taking those.” Klaus smiled Gus’s smile. His smiles looked wrong on Flora, but not on Gus. “I shall remain here and slow down Hans’s forces until you’re able to escape.”

“You’re not…coming with me?”

Klaus shook his head, stepping back. “Not with Gus, no. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I’ll see you again, Stephan.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” Stephan wished he had something more to say, but he didn’t. Klaus gestured, and the bar fell off one of the doors. Stephan headed for it. “I’ll be okay, right?”

“Yes. Go with your friend and you’ll be fine.” 

“What about Giacomo?” Stephan asked, reluctant. He took his crown off, held it in both hands. 

“What about him?” Klaus asked, glancing at the fallen boy. 

“Can you…” He’d killed Margery, tried to kill Stephan twice. “Can you protect him? He’s just a boy. He’s just grieving his father. I…I understand that. Can you protect him?”

“Very well,” Klaus said with a nod. “You’re a good person, Stephan.” 

“Not really,” Stephan whispered, to himself. He set the crown down on the throne, and stepped away from the dais. “Thank you.” 

“Until next time.” 

And Klaus left the throne room through the main door, leaving Stephan alone.

He took one last look around, at the tall ceilings, the windows, the pillars. The opulence, the wealth, the power. It had never been his. It had never been home. 

And leaving it behind made him feel light. Stephan turned his back on it all and headed for the door, which he realized belatedly was the one that had had someone banging on it a moment ago. 

He pushed it open and hurt a curse, someone falling to the floor. Stephan tensed. “Stephan?” 

“Geoffrey?” Stephan rushed to his side. He looked ill, and was in a nightcoat. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Good fucking question. I heard a report from a servant. Stephan, we have to get you out of the castle. I’m sorry, but you’re not going to win this one, and…”

“I know,” Stephan interrupted. “Let’s go.”

“Uh. That was easy. Okay.” He let Stephan pull him to his feet, but then led Stephan off down a hallway. “Come on, then. I planned for this.” 

“You…you did?” Stephan asked. Had Geoffrey never had faith in him either? Had it all been a lie?

Well, Giacomo had seemed to think that Geoffrey had been supposed to kill Stephan. Maybe they’d planned that together. 

“Yeah,” Geoffrey said, pulling Stephan along insistently. “I figured at some point we’d be smuggling you out of the city. Didn’t think it would be this soon. How did Hans get here this fast?” 

“Nobody knows,” Stephan muttered, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s here now. You really thought I’d fail, this whole time, didn’t you?” 

Geoffrey was quiet for a second as he pulled Stephan along, the alarm bells ringing. The castle shook again. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “You didn’t stand a chance. There were too many people who wanted to see you fail.” 

“Including you?”

A gentle shake of his head had Geoffrey’s curls moving. “No. I didn’t, actually.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why would I bother lying now?” 

“I killed your father.” 

Geoffrey looked at Stephan as they turned a corner, moving through a servants’ corridor. Empty of servants; probably they were in their rooms waiting to meet their new king. “My father was a drunk who liked to tell me how disappointing I was when he’d had a few cups of whiskey. Which was every night. I can’t say I miss him overly.” 

“I’m…sorry about that,” Stephan said. 

Geoffrey shrugged, kept pulling Stephan along. “Is Giacomo okay? Do you know where he is?”

“He’s…” Stephan had to tell him. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “He’s okay. He’s in the castle somewhere.” 

“You’re a bad liar, Stephan.” 

Shit. Stephan shut his eyes, taking a breath. “He’s fine, really. But he’s sided with Hans. He tried to kill me.” 

“That fucking brat,” Geoffrey spat. “I love him but God am I going to spank him. Okay. Come on. We need to get you out of here before Hans gets to the castle.” 

“Why do you care, though?” Stephan pressed. Geoffrey had immediately switched sides when Stephan had taken power. He’d made sure to do it so that his family would regain what they’d lost when Gerhard had taken the wrong side. It was the same reason Giacomo had wanted to help Hans. Why would Geoffrey help him escape when giving him to Hans would secure House DiSheere in the new regime?

The thought that Geoffrey _was_ giving him to Hans crossed Stephan’s mind suddenly. Maybe this was all an elaborate trap…but why? He could have just tied Stephan to the throne.

“Because I like you, maybe,” Geoffrey admitted. “I…listen, Neville asked me to watch out for you.”

Stephan stopped walking, stumbling when Geoffrey pulled him. “Neville did?” When…

“Yeah. The day before he left. He said that if everything went badly—he was thinking about Ulrich, I think—then I had to have a plan to get you out of the city and up to Three Hills.” 

_Ask Geoffrey DiSheere. He’d probably give you a blowjob if you asked._

“The northern capital? But Franz is there, he’ll…”

“He won’t know you’re there.” Geoffrey stopped now, in front of a door that had a draught coming under it. “Stephan. Neville asked me to help you. But that’s not why I am.” 

_He has his house’s reputation and a little brother to look out for._ “I know.” Stephan smiled. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter if you care about me. I still…really appreciated having you, Geoffrey.” 

Geoffrey blinked. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I do care about you Stephan. I didn’t at first, but, well, then I did. And I do. And…I love you.” 

_He’s no one of consequence so it doesn’t really matter._ “You…what?”

“Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. But I do, so…” Geoffrey shrugged. “Okay. You have to go.” 

He pulled the door open and pushed Stephan out into a small courtyard that was probably used for unloading supplies or something. There were a few horses and a few people there, most of them already saddled. One of them was standing near the door. “There you fucking are.” 

“Sorry,” Geoffrey said. “I overslept. Stephan, this is my companion, Javier.” 

“I…I don’t understand.” 

“He’s going to take you to Three Hills. Neville’s going to be there. You’ll need to use a fake name, but you can probably count on guards and soldiers not to recognize you as long as you don’t tell them who you are.” 

“But we have to go soon,” Javier stressed, darker than Geoffrey, a heavier jaw. His accent put him from the Fury Plateau. “They’re going to be closing the gates soon. I’m sorry, but there’s no time for a long goodbye.” 

For just a second, Stephan saw a black thread around Javier’s wrist. “Okay,” Stephan said, nodding. “Okay. Thank you. For all this.” 

Geoffrey nodded, pushing Stephan to a horse. “It’s the right thing to do.” 

“Come with me.” 

“I can’t,” Geoffrey said. 

“You can. You’ll be in danger here. You’ll…I love you too, Geoffrey.” Was that true? Stephan wasn’t sure. But it might be. And he was worried.

“That’s not fair,” Geoffrey said, smiling his half-smile. “I can’t, Stephan. I’ve got a little brother who needs a spanking and I can’t leave him alone.” 

“But…”

“You’ll be okay. Come see me in the east someday, okay?”

Stephan felt something breaking, but it was probably just his heart. It was better this way, he told himself. It was. “Okay, I will.” And he hugged Geoffrey, holding him tight for a second. “Be careful.” 

“You too,” Geoffrey said, holding Stephan for just that second, before pulling away. He gave Stephan a gentle kiss. “You’d have been an amazing king if we’d only let you.” 

Stephan smiled at that. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” 

“Goodbye.” Geoffrey’s eyes were swimming. 

“Goodbye, Geoffrey,” Stephan said, stepping back. That was it. It was time. The bells stopped ringing. 

Stephan let them put his on a horse, lead him out of the courtyard, out of the castle complex, out of the city. And as King Stephan Fyrhawk left behind his crown, his throne, his title, his city, his kingdom, the only part of it he regretted leaving behind was Geoffrey. 

For the rest, all Stephan could think was that this was how it was supposed to happen. All he could think was _Thank God it’s over._


End file.
